The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us
by Savannah O'Ryan
Summary: Eleven years ago Troy and Gabriella stood on the roof of East High and made promises. Then they smashed every one of them to pieces. Now, years of college degrees, career choices and life experiences have brought them both back to Albuquerque. Their years apart have altered them, changed them, and made them strangers to each other. Maybe strangers can start over. A TDOU sequel. AU.
1. Define Gap

**The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us**

_Disclaimer: I do not own HSM._

**Chapter One- Define Gap**

_gap (noun): the space or hole within someone or between two people._

* * *

Troy Bolton let out a sigh as he leaned his forearms on the white painted railing of the Danforth's treehouse. It was his last night home for the week of Thanksgiving after spending his first three months at New York University. The sky was pitch black through the bare branches of the tree. Snow had been falling in New York City for weeks already and the mild weather of Albuquerque had been welcomed. A handful of stars shone through and blazed a path that Troy followed with his eyes. The breeze was refreshing, if a bit cool, as it rustled the grass and tugged at his dishevelled hair. Dropping his gaze to the ground below, he noticed the lights shining through the dining room windows of the house next door. The sound of something creaking reached his ears and he followed the path of light to the far side of the stone patio and the figure sprawled across the hammock.

Grinning, Troy moved to the other side of the wrap around balcony and resumed his previous position. Putting two fingers to his mouth, he whistled long and low. Gabriella Montez looked up immediately, locating him in seconds even in the dark. Her soft smile had him growing fidgety as she left the hammock and slipped from her backyard to Danforth's, unlatching the gate between the two properties. While Troy had opted to attend NYU, Gabriella had chosen Stanford in Southern California and all the prestige that came with it. While they texted constantly, spoke on the phone and skyped at least twice a week, Troy had found it hard adjusting to not being able to see her every day. Standing below the treehouse, she tilted her head back and tugged her knit sweater tighter around her slim shoulders.

"You comin' up?" Troy asked, white teeth flashing as the goosebumps rose on his arms.

"I have to be up early tomorrow and I'm not packed yet," she said, shaking her head. She looked past him, eyes drinking in the treehouse but not meeting his gaze.

"Yeah," Troy sighed, his breath a cloud in the air. "Me too. I haven't seen you much this week. I thought we'd be inseparable."

"Apparently so did everyone else." Her voice held a tone of exasperation. "Every time I called Taylor or Sharpay, they asked why I wasn't with you." Sighing, Gabriella rolled her neck, stretching tense muscles. "I didn't expect it to be like this. I thought we'd come home and spend the week together and everything would be like before. It's not; everything is different. The people are different. My mom is different." She paused, looking up at Troy. "We're different."

"Maybe, but we knew that when you decided to go to Stanford and I chose NYU," Troy offered. "It's not a bad thing, but you're right. A week isn't long enough to get used to people again. You really notice the irritating stuff when you haven't had to deal with it."

"Anyone in particular?" She wasn't teasing. Troy caught the snarky edge in her voice but let it go. Nodding her head in the direction of house where Troy's family and the Danforths were probably finishing up with dessert, Gabriella offered him a half smile. "Had enough of Chad and his 'bro' time?"

"More like I've had enough of Candy," Troy scoffed. Chad's new girlfriend was originally from Phoenix but had decided to remain at the University of Albuquerque for Thanksgiving holidays. Most of those holidays had been spent at the Danforths. She was pleasant enough, but she said everything that came to her mind and had a knack for making every conversation link back to her trip to Thailand and her seven year old sister.

"Mandy, Troy," Gabriella said quietly without smiling. "Not Candy."

"Really?" Troy questioned, eyebrow raised. Shrugging, he accepted it when she gave him a look. "Guess that's better than Candy. Although that means I should stop with the hooker jokes. No wonder she never got them."

"Seriously, Troy?" He caught the annoyance in her voice that time. "You didn't even try to get to know her." Looking at her sharply, he took a breath before speaking.

"Why should I? She will probably be replaced by the time I see him again. There's a new one every month." Gabriella didn't answer him and Troy could feel the pressure building in his chest. "Why are we talking about this anyway? I can think of better things to talk about. You should come up here and we can discuss them. We only have fifteen hours to do it face to face. We can save on the phone bills." He saw the flicker in her cheek as she tried not to smile and he frowned. "Brie, what's up?"

"Did you mean what you said last night?" Gabriella asked, not moving from her spot on the grass.

"What did I say?" Troy tried to recall the discussion the night before at his parents' house with Gabriella, her mom, and the Danforths for Thanksgiving turkey. Zeke and Jason had stopped by at one point for dessert, and Taylor and Sharpay had joined everyone later for a movie. Gabriella's question could be referencing anything. "Did I mention how I love you? Because I did mean that."

"Troy, I'm being serious." Her voice held frustration and irritation and it put Troy on edge.

"Yeah, Brie, I'm aware." The joking tone left his voice and the easiness abandoned his posture.

He was shifting into his defensive mode and Gabriella picked up on it instantly. They had gotten better in the past year of learning to read each other and knowing when to back off and give each other space. Their senior year of high school and another summer at Maplevine had given them experience. They remained volatile when angry and while no one had picked up a stapler in many months, it didn't mean Gabriella's fingers didn't itch to reach for something every once and awhile. Troy on the other hand had gotten much better at watching what he said to her when the line between joking and antagonizing grew nearly invisible. It also meant his insults had become more creative and diverse. She knew she should not be doing this now. They were leaving for school tomorrow and it would be worse if they left Albuquerque for New York and California if they were fighting. She should drop it but she couldn't. The only thing worse than fighting in person would be fighting over the phone, so instead of letting her question hang unanswered, she pressed harder.

"Last night, at dinner, Mom asked what your plans were with school." She waited to see if he picked up on what she was referencing.

"Yeah? And?" He gestured with his hands arrogantly as if asking a serving wench to pour more ale. Gabriella's already simmering blood began creeping towards boiling.

"You told her you were going to join the army, Troy." Gabriella spit the word _army_ out like poison. Troy chuckled darkly. "Did you mean it or were you just being flippant?"

"Flippant? I am never flippant with your mother. She'd give me that withering look that makes me want to crawl under a rock." Troy spun around and faced the treehouse, his back to her. Calling over his shoulder, he raised his voice loud enough for her to hear the anger in every syllable. "And again, why are we doing this with you on the ground? If you want to talk, come up here."

"No." Everything was in that answer. The last year and a half was in that answer. Troy spun around so fast that Gabriella actually took a step back. "I am not going to talk to you about it. I'm not getting into it with you tonight. I just want to know if you meant it. Is that actually something you're thinking about doing in the future?"

"What if it is?" he retorted carelessly. "Oh, wait. You don't have to answer that because you don't want to talk about it."

"Troy, don't do this." If she had been pleading, he would have listened. She wasn't though. She was being patronizing and it made him roll his eyes and tilt his head to look at her.

"I'm not, Brie. You are. You brought it up." Sighing, he ran two hands through his hair and leaned forward on the railing. His long sleeved plaid shirt felt warm suddenly despite being rolled to his elbows. "Look, it's just something that came up at study group last week when we were working on a sociology assignment. The guys and I were talking about how having military experience can open doors or at least have people look at you a second time. It stuck with me and when you're mom asked, I said it."

"So it's actually a possibility? You'd actually do it?" She paused, noticing the shake in her voice. "Is it because of the gun?" Troy caught the glint in her eye. The walls were going up and the sassy jutting of her hip was being put into action. She was just waiting for an excuse but Troy was tired. "I mean I thought that basketball would be enough but if you need a gun, maybe your insecurities are more than I thought."

"Brie, I don't have insecurities. I believe you're the one who said I rock your world." He winked at her. It was cold though and held none of the teasing warmth he usually showed her. "Besides, the army would be perfect for us. We'd only have to see each other every several months." He dropped his voice lower so that for a moment Gabriella thought they were alone in his room, side by side, face turned to the other. "Just imagine it. I come home, we have earth-shattering sex for a month straight until we are at each other's throats again, and then I get shipped off. You could carry a picture of me in your wallet, tell all of our friends how—"

"Bolton—," she yelled, "I refuse to follow you around like a 1950's housewife while you play GI Joe."

"Gabriella, go home." Troy could see the direction they were heading and he didn't see the point. He knew why she hated the idea. The military meant transfers and postings and moving from base to base. She saw her childhood and hated it. He had been truthful though, it had just been a passing thought to consider in the future. To fight over it now was pointless. Who knew where they would be in four years? He saw himself with her, but beyond that? An empty abyss of possibility. "You didn't want to talk about this and neither do I."

"No, I'm not—," she started.

"Actually, you are done, Brie. Go home." He lowered his head to stare at his shoes. "Call me when you're done deciding my life for me."

He didn't watch her leave the yard and enter her own house. He didn't look to see if she left the light on in her room. The next morning he sent her a text well before she would have left for the airport. She didn't return the favor until his flight had landed in New York.

Then it read: _Don't bother missing me. Pretend its practice for when you leave to join the army._

* * *

Gabriella knew the moment that she sent the text message that she was in the danger zone. She knew the possibilities of how Troy would respond. When hours passed and she hadn't received a _fuck you_ in retaliation, she brushed it off and told herself it was because Troy was letting her cool down. Taylor liked to tell her it was a sign of maturity and patience when he did it. Gabriella knew different. Troy wasn't giving her space. He was letting her simmer; giving her time to second guess her choices. As long as she was the one firing off rude texts and leaving venomous voicemails, she looked like the crazy one. Smiling to herself as she thought about it, Gabriella left her phone in her room and went to the cafe around the corner where she wouldn't have internet access. She knew Troy's rules and she would play by her own.

She could out-wait him.

* * *

_**AN:**__ In March of 2011, an earthquake and subsequent tsunami rocked Japan. Diana (aka Unproper Grammar) called on HSM fandom writers and readers to donate to the cause. She donated to the fanfic auction, and in return she requested that I give her a glimpse of what the future held for Troy and Gabriella after The Definition of Us. She wasn't demanding. Just a glimpse. A scene. Maybe some background. I tried to do just a glimpse, in actuality I wrote it out and had it neatly at around 6,000 words. I hated it. It didn't fit. My muse took a hike. Everything went on hiatus until a handful of songs (list in my profile) reminded me what TDOU was about and who they were. So I rewrote everything. It's probably nothing like what you imagined. They may not even seem like the same people that I wrote four years ago. I'd like to think that's the point. _

_~Van_


	2. Define Trigger

**The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us**

_Disclaimer: I do not own HSM._

**Chapter Two- Define Trigger**

_trigger (noun): a mechanism that sets someone or something into motion._

* * *

**Ten Years Later**

* * *

Officer Troy Bolton leaned against his patrol car and watched the scene before him. With his arms crossed across his chest and his face revealing not a hint of a smile behind his mirrored aviator sunglasses, few would realize how amused he was by the scene in front of him. A young cop with dark skin and close cropped curly dark hair was snapping handcuffs over the wrists of a slightly older, darkly tanned male with a dirty blonde ponytail. At 6 foot 2, the cop was able to remain relaxed as he muttered the list of rights that every cop learned early in the academy and which this suspected car thief probably knew as well. Slinging one ankle in front of the other, Troy reached into his pocket and brought out his vibrating cell phone. He looked at the picture that appeared on the screen and then tilted his head to look at the subject that was lying face first on the ground, cheek pressed into the asphalt. Firing off a quick response, Troy pocketed the phone and pushed away from the cruiser.

"Well, Bennett, you just collared the division's perp of the day. Solid effort." Troy ignored the look on the rookie cop's face and instead crouched down beside the guy he had just tackled and handcuffed after chasing him for six blocks. "Can't say much for you. You just got run down by a rookie who has only been on the job for a week. He didn't even realize who you are."

"Kid got lucky," the guy muttered as Troy indicated for Evan Bennett to yank the guy to his feet.

"Maybe," Troy shrugged as he held the backdoor open so that Evan could toss the guy in the backseat. "But you made the stupid mistake of running two red lights in a row while driving a stolen vehicle. Then you made Officer Bennett here get out and run you down. See, running just makes rookies excited. They get all high on adrenaline and can go forever." Troy smirked and shook his head as he closed the door. "Stupid move."

Sliding into the driver's seat and turning over the engine, Troy pulled out into traffic and headed back towards the station. In his head he went over the entire situation again to make sure there was nothing that Evan had missed or could be given some tips on. He couldn't think of anything. It had been a straight forward attempt at a traffic stop and then the subsequent pursuit and arrest. The only variation in the whole thing had been when Troy had caught sight of a bullet tattoo on the subject's neck. Thinking back to parade that morning, Troy had sent in a text to the detective at Station Number Twenty-Eight, and Detective Brian Ford had texted him the mug shot of a wanted Dagger gang member.

"So, Sir?" Evan's voice caused Troy to break his mental recap and cast a glance to the other side of the car. "You mentioned that our subject is wanted?" Troy grinned at the kid's attempt to hide the excitement in his voice.

Nearly four years on the force and Troy could still recall the feeling of his first big arrest. The feeling of nostalgia that came when he saw Evan was brief, but also slightly bitter. It was hard to think that in the short time he had been a cop, he had already begun to recognize how jaded he was becoming. Troy had spent four years playing basketball at NYU before graduating with an undergraduate degree in psychology and sociology. He had briefly entertained the thought of applying to law school but then decided to do what he had considered during his freshmen year. He enlisted with the US Army. He completed basic training and then spent the next two and a half years completing two tours in Iraq. It was eye opening and gruelling and while Troy never regretted going, it certainly was not something he'd want to repeat. Returning stateside, Troy had a choice to make and he chose to enter a profession that allowed him to help people. As a cop he got to work the streets. He got to look beyond a person's potential to be a suspect, or a threat. He wasn't shooting at unseen targets because he was told too. His military career had opened doors to the Albuquerque police force, but thinking of his advantage usually left Troy with the taste of ashes in his mouth. Training Evan reminded him of the optimism he sought each time he put on the uniform, the freshness of doing what was right and making a difference.

"Yes, he is," Troy drawled, flicking his gaze to the rearview mirror to meet the guy's eyes. "Meet Mr. Kenneth Price, also known as K-Dollar. Mr. Price is wanted for questioning by our detectives for the suspected illegal sale of weapons. It is highly likely that one of those weapons was sold to our very dead friend, Dreyvon Vincent, one of the Viper boys from the East Side."

"Cool," Evan replied, coolly sliding his own aviators in place and hanging his elbow out the open window of the cruiser.

"Very cool," Troy agreed, swinging the car left into the gated parking lot of the station. "But don't think it means you're not buying coffee for this entire shift. You still lost the bet."

"Yeah, whatever, Sir," Evan said, eyes rolling behind the sunglasses as he opened the backdoor to the cruiser. "It's Albuquerque. Who even bothers to follow the hockey season in Albuquerque?"

Troy laughed as they led their prisoner into booking and a holding cell.

* * *

Troy was bringing a bottle of water to his lips when he heard his name called. Turning on his heel with the bottle still tilted, he swallowed as Brian approached him from the interrogation block of the station. Troy and Evan were now eight hours into a twelve hour shift that had started at 8am. Brian looked as though the last four hours in interrogation with Kenneth Price had been anything but a cakewalk. With his tie lost somewhere in his office and his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, Troy still thought he looked uncomfortable in a suit after seven months into his promotion to detective. Brian didn't even speak before holding out a file to Troy. The photograph was of a well dressed business man with flecks of silver in his hair and a thousand dollar watch glinting on the wrist that held a glass of wine. It had clearly been taken from a distance by a surveillance team. Troy knew who it was.

"Marco diSantiscani? You finally got something on him?" Troy raised an eyebrow as he flipped through the file. "You know I spent weeks on this guy last year, right?"

Freshly discharged only six weeks following his final deployment, Troy had breezed through the police academy and had only been at Station Twenty-Eight for a month when Headquarters assigned him to a taskforce. With his military background and most of his ties in Albuquerque severed, Headquarters saw him as a new pawn they could toss undercover. Troy had been part of dozens of short term operations lasting from a couple of nights to a few weeks. His longest stint had been three months working in diSantiscani's trucking warehouse.

"Yeah, I know. They pulled you when he put a gun to your head before pulling the trigger on one of his other guys. He knew there was a cop. You were lucky." Brian shoved his hands in his pockets. "We don't have anything worth an arrest. Yet. But your boy Price just let an address slip of where he bought the guns from. He didn't have a name, says they never gave names, but it's an office building registered to Javier Pico."

"Marco's import/export guy?" Troy exclaimed, turning pages of the file still in his hands. "That's a nice piece of information." He scratched his chin, reading the list of property holdings in Pico's name. "So what's next? You get a warrant?"

"Yup," Brian replied, popping the last letter of the word. Rubbing a hand over his face, he looked between Troy and the file as though considering all of his options. He ignored the look that Troy was giving him with a raised eyebrow. "I am sending teams out, along with the investigative forensic guys, to the office building. I have also recruited Station Twenty-Five and Seventeen to carry out searches at his other properties, including the warehouses."

"And me? You can't expect me to sit in a squad on the freeway running speed traps while you pursue this," Troy reminded Brian, eyeing Evan who was bent over paperwork a few desks away. "If it's because of Bennett, he's good. He can handle it. He can guard the squad car."

"It doesn't matter what I ask you to do, you will just ignore me anyway," Brian answered ruefully. "No, I'm sending you to bring Pico in for questioning. Take Snow and Tobin with you. If you find anything, or he says anything, call it in."

"Do we know he's at home? Or we're hoping?" Troy asked, looking at his watch. It was nearing the end of the work day. It was possible that Pico was sitting in his hundred thousand dollar car, waiting in traffic with the ordinary people.

"He's home. A surveillance team confirmed it about ten minutes ago. I need you to get there before we raid the other buildings. Someone is bound to give him a heads up." Brian patted Troy on the arm. "Remember he's just one half of the puzzle. We need diSantiscani."

"Yeah, sure." Troy replied quietly, turning away and heading towards Evan. Dropping the file on top of the keyboard he was using, Troy kept his voice low and serious. The diSantiscani's were not a joke. Sometimes he could still feel the steel of the gun against his temple that night in the warehouse. Something in his gut squeezed tightly and Troy broke out of his own thoughts. "We're taking a ride. You can read it on the way."

"Sir?" Evan asked, grabbing his cap and the file off of the desk and hurrying after Troy to the lot outside. Ahead of him Troy was radioing Officers Ruby Snow and Wes Tobin. "Bolton?"

"I will answer questions in the car, Bennett." He looked over the roof of the squad car as he pulled open the door. "Let's go."

Evan didn't say a word for the entire ten minute drive. Troy kept the lights and sirens off but drove above the speed limit. He could see their backup car following close behind. Every time Evan turned a page in the file, Troy would glance his way, but he never asked a question. When he reached the end, he put everything back in order and read it again.

* * *

The search had started smoothly. The two police cruisers had arrived in the driveway of one Javier Pico and simultaneously blocked any possible exit from his triple car garage by parking themselves across the cobbled driveway. For a moment, Troy had pondered why the businessman who made six figures a year didn't have a gated driveway. He also didn't have a fenced yard. Ruined the landscaping perhaps, Troy had thought before leading the way to the front door. Once inside, the four cops had accomplished their primary task fairly quickly.

They explained to Mr. Pico that they required him to answer some questions regarding an accusation made by some unscrupulous people about some possible illegal activities at one of his office buildings. Mr. Pico had made some uncouth comments about these unscrupulous people and then requested that the police allow him to call a lawyer and locate his laptop—All in the name of helping them of course. Except that Troy and Ruby had given him a five minute head start and then followed him to the basement only to find him unloading large quantities of cash from a safe into the supposed laptop case. Troy had happily been the one to slap the handcuffs on Pico. The man had given them enough reason to tear his house apart.

Tear it apart, they did. After calling in for backup and giving forensics the go-ahead, Troy had pulled on blue latex gloves and beckoned to Evan to follow him. Descending to the basement where they had found Pico, Troy began scanning the room. Although he had never met Javier Pico before, let alone set foot in his house, Troy had been inside the home of Marco diSantiscani eighteen months ago when he was sent undercover as one of his middlemen warehouse runners. More specifically, Troy had been inside diSantiscani's office, and it looked eerily similar.

"Sir? What are we looking for?" Evan asked, his own gloved hands running over the polished wood of the desk that took up much of the room. He turned to look behind him as Ruby and Wes joined them, hanging back for instructions.

"Bennett, what is wrong with this room?" Troy asked, not answering the question. "Or rather, what is wrong with where this room is?"

"You mean how his office is in the basement?" Evan replied, watching Troy slide his hands over the dark cherrywood shelves that covered one wall.

"Exactly. Pico has a three story house with more than enough rooms upstairs to convert one or two to office space. So why is this in the basement?" Troy didn't wait for an answer. "Also why is this room soundproofed? And why is that door industrial grade thickness?" Not turning, Troy ran his hands along the space where the shelf met the wall. "Because, Bennett, Pico didn't want his illegal business interfering with his legitimate business. Upstairs is for show to all those who don't know what is down here."

"So he wouldn't hide anything we are looking for in the other office. It's here." Evan's face creased in concentration. It was quickly replaced by surprise as Troy pulled his hand away from the shelves with a gleeful exclamation.

"The keys to the kingdom, my friends," he announced, shaking the key he had just found. "Who wants to guess that this opens that door?" He asked, pointing to a door that led beyond the room to a unsearched area. "And that behind that door are all the reasons for Pico to be running?"

The key did fit the lock and the door turned out to be the entrance to a storage area. Boxes were stacked neatly along the walls and more haphazardly in the center of the room. Evan and Ruby followed Troy inside while Wes went to find help from the forensics teams. The first few boxes they searched held a mismatch of items. A box of Christmas decorations, an artificial Christmas tree, and ski gear. Boxes of linen and camping gear. One box held old videocassette tapes and another boasted yellowed paperbacks. It wasn't until they had opened more than half of the boxes that they hit the proof Troy had been looking for.

"Bingo!" Ruby called, letting out a whistle. "I have hallowed point bullets," she relayed, pulling smaller boxes out of a box labeled 'U of A'. She carried the box of bullets capable of piercing Kevlar out to the other room for forensics to catalogue it.

"Here's another," Troy said a few minutes later. "I've got guns and silencers."

The further they went, the more boxes were discovered to contain illegal goods. Evan located two boxes of bullet proof vests and handguns. Ruby found more boxes of bullets and automatic weapons big enough to fit them. The process was standard. The cops would call for forensics each time they opened a box containing useful evidence. Forensics would collect what they needed from the area around the box and then an officer would carry it to the office area or outside to an armoured truck. Troy had just passed off two heavy cases of AK-47s and their proper bullets when he uncovered the first thing that made him realize that Pico and diSantiscani had some very powerful contacts.

"I've got landmines," he called grimly. "We're going to need ETU and the bomb guys in here." He gingerly scanned the other boxes to his left. Lifting a flap with a finger, he noted that this box was actually labelled with more than a room in the house. "And we've got military grade grenades. Who the hell are these guys dealing with?"

"I'm calling this in to Ford," Ruby announced, pulling out her phone and leaving the room to call the detective.

"Bennett, keep going but be careful. These guys have military contacts. That is a very long list of items that could be in this house." Troy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, surveying the room. Who were they buying from and who were they buying for? Gang bangers like Price wouldn't be buying landmines.

The moments clicked by as Troy tried to locate anything that could help them narrow down the supply pyramid. He could hear Evan as he worked, his heavy boots echoing on the cold floor. The room was almost bitingly cold, Troy noticed once he took a break from heavy lifting. Thinking, he was deep in thought when there was a harsh intake of breath and Evan's movements froze. Turning around, Troy noted that the younger officer was standing in mid stride, his arms cradling a box with one flap pushed open.

"Bennett?" Troy asked, an eyebrow arching.

"I think—," He visibly swallowed and Troy felt a shiver of dread enter his gut. "I think I found explosives."

"You think?" Troy asked, taking a step forward. "Don't move," he warned. Reaching for the box, Troy's hand gently pushed back the flap. The white blocks were neatly squared and identically sized. In the center of each one was a small open capsule filled with a colourless fluid.

"What is it?" Evan asked, his hands trying to find a better position on the box. "I mean, I know what it looks like—."

"Evan, just don't move, okay? Just look at me. I need you to keep holding it just like that, okay? Captain is sending in someone." Troy stepped so that he was directly in front of Evan. "Whatever you do, don't let the fluid spill outside of its container."

"You should leave," Evan said softly, looking at the box as if dazed. "They will make you leave when they get here anyway."

"Bennett?" Troy called until he looked up and met his gaze. "I'm not going anywhere."

Evan seemed to accept that as a golden rule, nodding slightly as Troy took a few steps back until he was blocking the doorway out of the storage area. When their radios crackled to life and voices began yelling directions back and forth, Troy turned his off and continued to wait.

* * *

Specialist Gabriella Montez ignored the catcalls and cheers from her teammates as she assembled the semi-automatic weapon laid out on the workspace in front of her. Beside her, Specialist Aaron Campbellton was two steps behind her but catching up. Grinning as she snapped the last piece in place, Gabriella grabbed the ammo and loaded the weapon. Aaron knew the game was up when she spun in one movement and took aim, placing a bullet perfectly in the chest of the target set up twenty-five feet away.

"Thatta girl!" Called Sergeant Sam Hill, clapping a hand on her back while Gabriella clicked the safety in place and removed all the bullets. "That broke your last record."

Gabriella had broken a lot of records in her line of profession. She had graduated from Stanford in only three years at the top of her class. Following up her degree in electrical and mechanical engineering, Gabriella had pursued her masters degree at Georgetown University in Washington where her research project caught the eye of some very high profile people after six months of work. Gabriella and her research partner had been trying to create a universal remote signal interrupter that could also locate the not only the source of the signal, but any potential targets of the signal. While it could have numerous potential public purposes, the Department of Defence realized it could be used in a military capacity. They wanted it. More importantly, they wanted what else was in Gabriella's head.

"Only place to go was up," she quipped. "And my last record was my first record so there was room to improve."

The Department of Defence handed Gabriella's research over to their own engineers and then sent Gabriella to the companies that designed and manufactured the US Military's weapons. For two years, Gabriella learned from some of the most brilliant minds in the country as they showed her how things were made, and how things could be made. Then they sent her to Iraq to see for herself. The irony of being put through basic training and then shipped overseas to experience the engineering feats of militaries around the world was not lost on Gabriella the first time she saw herself in the mirror, dressed in fatigues. Eight months later she was back in Washington telling them no. She would not design for them. She would not build for them. Instead she wanted to help with the collateral damage. So she learned how to defuse landmines and grenades. She learned how to recognise traps. Gabriella became a weapons expert. The FBI at Quantico offered her training. She took it. When it was done, she left with a recommendation in her hand for the Santé Fe Police Department. Three years in Santé Fe and a vacancy in Albuquerque found her returning home as the newest member on Albuquerque's Elite Tactical Unit Number Three. A month on the job and she still felt like she had to prove herself.

"Yeah, well, how about we leave the sniper shooting to Gavin over here before he finds himself out of a job?" Aaron joked, raising a hand for a high five. His smile was wide and easy-going. Coupled with his blonde hair and green eyes, he would have blended in just as well on a Californian beach with a surfboard. "Nice win. I'll owe you a drink after shift today."

"I'm pretty sure you still owe me a drink from last week when you scratched my bumper with the unit truck, and you owe Will for that hooker stunt on Friday night," Specialist Gavin Parks reminded him, sharing a smirk with Gabriella. Where Aaron was bright and airy, Gavin was dark and serious. He was more sarcastic than joking, and his dark eyes were always watching those around him. "You buying for all of us?"

"I think I am owed more than one drink after Friday night," Will Bellefontaine retorted, frowning. Gabriella patted the tall, broad shouldered tactical strategy expert on the arm in a slightly patronizing, almost sympathetic way as she thought of their night shift a few days before. He gave her an annoyed look that she laughed at before he smoothed back his wavy brown hair and grumbled quietly.

"All of us have a shift to get through first," Sam called from across the room as he tugged his police issue ball cap into place over his close cropped dark hair. "Montez, Tanner—Let's make sure everyone knows how to the use the new headsets." At his request, Gabriella glanced to where Jenna Tanner was already pulling headsets out of an equipment locker. "I want them used today if we get a call."

"Sure thing, Boss," Jenna replied, working with Gabriella to set everything up. Gabriella was still new to some of the purposes of the equipment so she let Jenna put microphones and headsets together while she went through the list of things to cover, glancing every once and awhile at the auburn haired computer whiz whose braid was constantly swinging over her shoulder.

Twenty minutes later, Gabriella and Jenna were showing the team how to change radio channels when the alarm went off overhead. Without a word to each other, everyone jumped to get ready for the call. Although Gabriella had only been on the team for a bit less than a month, she and the team knew each others moves. Gear went into bags, guns were grabbed and loaded, and Kevlar vests were donned and snapped in place before everyone headed to their assigned trucks.

Seated shot-gun in a truck beside Aaron, Gabriella took the time between Headquarters and their target location to strap her gear in place. Ammo went in the deep packs strapped to her left thigh and her service weapon went in the holster on her belt. Her tool kit was in a backpack that could be slung over her shoulder and her rifle was locked and loaded and resting in her lap. Her helmet was on the floor to be put on when they arrived.

"Okay, Team," Sam called over the radio waves, "We're dealing with military grade weapons that were discovered during the search of a home on the East Side by Albuquerque police. Someone on site has identified grenades and IEDs. There are also a variety of weapons and high impact ammunition."

"What's our top priority?" Jenna asked from the truck driving ahead of Aaron and Gabriella.

"Priority one is to make sure all the explosives are safe, secured and disarmed so that they can be moved. Gabriella, that's all you. No one touches anything until Gabriella gives the go ahead." Sam continued as though he could see his team nodding along. "Secondary priority is to help the detectives on scene identify the weapons and provide any knowledge we have that can help with the investigation."

"Boss, do we know anything more specific about the explosives?" Gabriella asked, her fingers flying over the keyboard of the tiny laptop she'd opened.

"I'm forwarding you the pictures from the house," Sam told her. "Gavin and Will, when we get there I need you to set up a perimeter around the house. No one goes in without going through you. Aaron, you're with Gabriella. Jenna, you're in the command truck. Get a head start on identifying possible importers or buyers for this shipment."

Aaron pulled up in front of the three story colonial house in a posh, gated area of town just as Sam finished relaying tasks to everyone. Gabriella threw the door open and jumped from the truck, slinging her rifle over her shoulder and grabbing her helmet before closing the door. Buckling it in place over her braided hair, she met Aaron at the rear of the truck where he had already opened the back hatch and was pulling out equipment. Gabriella double checked the bags and her own packs on her belt and thigh. Beside her, Aaron was putting his own helmet on and checking his gear belt.

"Got everything?" he asked, grabbing the handles of one bag while Gabriella grabbed the other.

"We're a go," Gabriella replied, "Boss, are we cleared to enter?"

"Team, we have a problem," Sam called in a quiet voice over the headsets, deadly serious. Gabriella paused, looking towards Sam and Jenna who were speaking to what looked like a sergeant.

"Sam?" Gavin asked, joining Aaron and Gabriella with Will.

"One of the officers came in contact with active chemical compounds that they think are explosive," Sam answered calmly. "We need to clear out any non-essential personnel and send someone in to deal with it."

"Well," Gabriella answered, drawing in a breath and holding it before letting it out slowly. "I guess that means I'm up." Patting Aaron on the arm as she handed him the duffle bag she'd been carrying. "Come on, partner, let's go earn our paychecks so you can buy me that drink."

* * *

Bennett was panicking. Troy could see it in the way his weight would microscopically shift from one foot to the other and then back again. Sweat gleamed at his temples and Troy watched the vein under his jaw pulse each time he swallowed. Although it didn't help with the building anxiety, Troy would glare at him each time the fingers on his right hand tapped out a nearly silent beat to some rap song in his head. The last thing they needed was for the shifting and the tapping to knock over something in the box that Evan held in both hands.

"Just breathe, buddy," he called softly from his place just in front of him. Fifteen feet away, squared off to shadow Evan's stance, Troy was trying to keep him focused on not jostling the box but not dropping it with scared numbed hands either. "Just breathe. They are sending someone in."

"Did you tell them it's C4?" Evan asked, his voice low and steady. Too steady.

"No," Troy replied. "I told them it might be C4." He let out the breath he had been holding. In all honesty he was positive it was C4. He wasn't concerned about the C4. C4 was fairly stable. It was the substance connected with the C4 that had him edgy. "We are treating this as an if. It could be a box of paperclips for all we know."

"I thought it was bullets. The other two were full of bullets. I looked before moving them." Evan shook his head. "I should have looked at this one."

"And next time you will." Troy offered him a half smile. "Lesson learned, right?"

Evan barked out a dark laugh before letting the room go quiet again. Troy could hear the static of a radio from another room but he tried to ignore it. He had turned both of their radios off when Ruby and Wes were ordered from the house. Evan didn't need to hear rescue plans or concerns being relayed back and forth. There should be a radio channel switch, but just in case Troy had rid himself of the possible stressor. Every now and again he could hear voices in the rooms above or on the staircase but the house was huge and all non-essential personnel had been ordered away. Troy had deemed himself essential. That meant the only other people in the house were ETU Team Members.

"What's with the tattoo?" Evan suddenly asked, ripping his gaze away from the box he held to stare at Troy's forearm.

"What about it?" Troy asked, looking down. He had rolled his standard issue uniform shirt sleeves up when they had begun helping forensics clear the house of evidence. Tattoos were pretty standard in his line of work but no one usually asked about the small bold typed letter B+ on the inside of his arm, just above his wrist.

"It's sort of boring. Were you a consistent B+ student in high school or something?" Evan joked without humor. He just wanted a distraction.

"No," Troy replied, his lips pressing together as he studied it. "It's from the army. My first tour ended when a bunch of my platoon got caught by a roadside IED. When we were sent back the next time, we all went to the tattoo guy and had him ink us up with our blood types. Just in case."

"I would have to be really paranoid or really liking my blood type to make that permanent," Evan answered.

"I got lucky, I guess," Troy answered. "The letter B stands for a lot of things in my life that I let go of. It's a reminder. Now that I'm out of the military I can pretend it represents one of those."

"Like what?" Evan's question was simple, and yet invasive all at once. Troy considered answering with the first thought that entered his head. Instead he went for the second.

"Basketball," he finally said. He met Evan's gaze. "I played in high school. Was pretty good, too; Captain of the team, and point guard. Played at NYU for a few years. It's been awhile. Sometimes the guys at the station ask me to join the PD league for the city but I never seem to go."

"I played football," Evan offered. "Punt return was my specialty. My dream was to play for—" His eyes lifted to the doorway behind Troy, the sound of voices and heavy boots on the stairs interrupting his response.

"Sounds like the cavalry has arrived," Troy said, trying to keep the tension he felt from his voice and maintaining his gaze on Evan to ensure that in his momentum of relief he didn't take a fatal step or reach up scratch his head. Troy waited until he heard the ETU team in the hallway just outside the room before taking a few steps away from the door to give them room when they entered.

Troy watched from his place out of the way, his back to the wall and his body angled towards Evan so that the rookie could still see him, as the team of two entered the room with guns out but lowered. Troy found himself raking their attire with his eyes, noting that they were more military than police. During his time with the police department, he had discovered that the ETU was stacked with ex-military personnel. The slate grey pants and black shirts reminded Troy of his army camos. The guns they carried were far from the service weapon strapped at his hip right now. They were designed to take out much bigger threats than a gang banger robbing a corner store or a drunken husband beating his wife. The bullet proof vests were department issue, but where Troy had abandoned his peaked cap somewhere in the house, these ETU officers had helmets strapped in place with goggles perched on the brim. The guy was tall and broad across the shoulders and he accepted his partner's rifle without a word, clicking the safety on with a practiced movement. Troy turned his gaze to the smaller of the partners and felt something flicker in the back of his mind.

"Hey, we're with the ETU, Officer," a voice that Troy could still hear on nights when he forgot to forget said to Evan. "I'm just going to use this little gismo to see what is in the box." Troy noted the black gloves on her hands as she unclipped something from her duty belt and showed it to Evan.

Troy felt his blood pound behind his eyes and his hands trembled slightly where they had come to rest on his duty belt. Closing his eyes, he tried to dull the roaring sound of his heartbeat and quell the anxious nerves that were running through him. It couldn't be. No way in all the frozen circles of hell could it be.

"My training officer said it was C4 and something else." Troy felt hot everywhere as he realized what Evan was going to do before he looked over the head of the brunette Latina ETU officer to seek out Troy. "Sir, what did you call it? Ammonium something?"

"Ammonium chlorate." The words left Troy's mouth before he even thought them through. He had noted the symbols on the side of the box in Evan's hands and smelled the telltale scent of the unstable explosive. "I've handled it before."

There was no time to look casual or put together. No time to jam a mask over his features to rid them of his surprise. Nothing. She just turned around slowly and Troy saw her for the first time in ten years.

"Hey, Brie." He said quietly, his arms crossed over his chest to cover the tremor in his hands. "It's been awhile."

That was one way to put it.


	3. Define Wired

**The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us**

_Disclaimer: I do not own HSM._

**Chapter Three- Define Wired**

_wired (noun): a nervous, edgy, or tense state._

* * *

Gabriella forgot to breathe during the time it took her to turn around. The room was cold she thought, an attempt to distract herself from the goosebumps on her arms and the shiver holding her spine rigid. She was suddenly distinctly aware of the strap on her helmet chafing her chin and that one her socks inside her boots was bunched. Her gloves itched her hands and she tried to cover up her discomfort by adjusting them. Despite all the little things clamouring for her attention, she couldn't not look at him.

"Hey, Brie," he said quietly, his eyes searching her face. She wondered what he sought; what he found. "It's been awhile."

His hair was different. Gabriella knew that so many other things mattered right now, but that is what grabbed her attention first. Her training made the inspection quick. Shorter hair, faint shadow of facial hair, lines at his eyes and mouth. A hardness was set into every part of him. He was bigger. Ten years had made him a man. For the first time she wondered what had changed in her. Troy broke her gaze first, and it was enough to jerk Gabriella back to the basement and the young cop holding a box.

"Troy." She swallowed, her brain racing to pull herself together. She needed to get a grip. "I thought they had cleared all non-essential personnel from the building." Beside her, Aaron started to reach for his headset to request intel.

"They did." Troy's voice was hard. Tight. Gabriella bit the inside of her cheek and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"And you are still here because...?" She let the sentence hang in the air as she began pulling a set of pliers and a tiny screwdriver from the deep pockets of her pants. Holding them with one hand, she looked to Aaron and motioned to the bag still slung across his back. "Aaron, can you find an airtight canister in the bag? And I need to lower the heat in the room as far as it will go."

"I already did." Troy's answer caused her to refocus on the extra person in the room. Raising an eyebrow, she felt unsettled when he answered the question in her gaze. "It's as low as it will go. It was one of the first things I did when I realized what it could be." He paused and then added, "That's what makes me essential."

"Lowering a thermometer?" Aaron retorted in a barely audible tone, on his knees with one hand in the bag and one hand holding the canister out to Gabriella. She took it. "Montez, he shouldn't be here. The regular PD was asked to leave. It's protocol."

"I'm not leaving." Troy moved away from the wall and unfolded his arms. "He's my responsibility."

"Sir, you should leave." Evan addressed Troy but his eyes watched Gabriella's movements. Her hands were steady as they pulled the individual vial from the white clay-like blocks. "The captain is probably—"

"Leave Dan to me," Troy ordered. Gabriella refused to look at him but Aaron eyed him with suspicion. "Just concentrate on not moving until Montez is done."

"Officer, you really do need to leave. I have your captain and the lead detective in my ear telling me a number of ways to ask you to leave until we neutralize the threat." Aaron fingered the trigger on the rifle he still held and moved towards Troy. "Specialist Montez requires—"

"Specialist Montez could do her work in a hurricane and we both know it, so shut up and let it go. You're not my chief." Troy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Brie, tell your boy to lower the gun and take a chill pill. I'm not leaving my rookie down here."

"Specialist Campbellton, let it go. Officer Bolton's superiors can deal with him later." She turned her focus back to the remaining clump of crystals. "Now, Evan," she told him while lowering a vial into the canister, "We're nearly done with the excitement for the evening. Just a few more and we're done."

"Hey, Bennett," Troy called to him softly and Gabriella noticed how the young cop instantly relaxed a bit. "If we get out of here on time, I may even let you buy me a drink later at The Shield."

Gabriella bit her lip as she worked, trying not to listen to Troy reminding the rookie of all the paperwork that awaited them back at the station by listing all of the incidents they had been called to that day. When she was finished, she capped the canister of fluid filled vials and placed it in a specially designed bag to keep them at a constant temperature. Handing it off to Aaron, she replaced her pliers and screwdriver before reaching out to Evan to accept the now neutralized box of C4. She set it on a nearby table and labelled it with a black marker. Then she glanced around the remaining boxes and evidence in the room.

"Do we know what's in the rest of these?" Gabriella asked Troy without addressing him directly. He had known how to deal with the explosives. He would have known how to handle the other military grade weapons. "Someone told us there were IUDs and grenades." She peered into a handful of small, stacked boxes on top of a black case.

"What we found we were moving until Bennett realized what he was holding. It should all be in one of the armoured trucks outside. I haven't looked through anything else in here. We've mostly been finding guns and bullets." Troy came to stand beside her but not too close. "They tried to camouflage everything so a lot of this is just decoy evidence. Captain said they were sending in an expert."

"They did." Gabriella crouched down and clicked open the black case to reveal two matching automatic weapons. "M4A3s. Bushmaster Assault Carbine. 16" barrel, 30 round clip, collapsible buttstock." Gabriella pulled out a magazine and tilted it, looking for a serial number.

"You're the expert." Troy was watching her as she pulled out a second magazine, examining it the same as the first.

"I am the expert," she admitted. "My team is going to help you sort through what needs to be disassembled before putting it in an evidence compound." She replaced the bullets and called to her partner over her shoulder. "Aaron, if Sarge is ready we can get started. Troy, when you go outside, can you send in the lead detective?"

She was being dismissive and she knew that but it had been too long. Too many years had passed and too much hung between them for her to be able to remain in the same room with him for much longer without either of them breaking the figurative silence. There were too many questions that were bursting to be asked. This was not the place to crack their lives open like nutshells. Gabriella didn't care if it was obvious Troy was good at his job or that his colleagues respected him. He was still Troy and she needed him somewhere else.

"Yeah. Brian Ford." Troy nodded and gave Aaron a cocky smirk that Gabriella missed. "Just don't listen to anything he says about me. He's had a long day and he really hates wearing a tie."

Gabriella noticed that Aaron glared at him as he left, guiding his rookie cop with a prodding hand on the back of his vest. She watched him round the corner, feeling a seed of uncertainty when the knot of feelings in her gut didn't leave when he did.

* * *

An hour later and Gabriella had removed her helmet. They had left the heat down in case there were any other surprises in the storage chamber, but the heavy lifting and the vibrating tenseness of the situation had Gabriella comfortable in her short sleeved black t-shirt and grey pants tucked into calf high combat boots. Her bullet proof vest was still in place, but she had loosened the straps slightly. Under the pretense of looking something up on the tiny computer that could fit in the case that fit on her belt like a cell phone case, she observed the people that worked with Troy on a daily basis.

Sergeant Dan Fleming was chatting with Detective Brian Ford. A handful of other Albuquerque Police officers were also in the room, cataloguing and inventorying items found. Aside from what Troy and his partners had found earlier, Gabriella had found nothing else but guns, ammo and sniper scopes. A handful of heat sensors had been inside one box, along with night vision equipment suitable for long distance rifles. They were almost finished and then they could all go back to their headquarters, complete paperwork and get home. Gabriella hated the idea of paperwork.

Running a gloved hand over the barrel of an MP5 and frowned. The mix of weapons in this basement made no sense. It was a combination of military, police department and street level sources. Usually she would be able to identify a class of source. That the guns were coming from gangbangers or stolen from police lockups, or high end military black markets overseas. This though was as though the dealer was operating a pawn shop of odds and ends. Why would he have grenades and landmines in the same operation as a hand gun you could purchase legally at any dealer on the street? And who buys grenades or landmines? It made her head spin.

"It's a mess, isn't it?" Gabriella looked up to see Detective Ford approaching her. Biting her lip, she nodded. "These guys are slippery. Even with all of this—" He waved his hands around, "—We have no evidence to tie Pico to anyone else. No suppliers, no buyers. Not a single thing with diSantiscani's name on it. He could be a lone fish in the sea if we didn't know better."

"But they're partners, aren't they?" Gabriella asked, popping open a silver brief case that Officer Snow had set down in front of her. The case was locked, but a few turns of her lock set had made it unlocked. Inside it looked like files and photographs.

"Silent, invisible partners," Brian explained. "On paper, Pico runs an import export business that deals with companies shipping antiques and furniture internationally. Exotic things, domestic things. He has a niche but he will go outside. That's what makes him unpredictable when we try to narrow down his suppliers." Brian watched as she searched the brief case, her movements masked by the lid that blocked his view. "diSantiscani used the business twice to import furniture for his office. That's the only link we have that some good old fashioned research discovered."

"So what makes you think diSantiscani is involved with this?" Gabriella lifted out the piles of file folders, finding a blue velvet drawstring bag that's weight told her it was more than a few odds and ends. She opened it. "I mean, obviously Pico has some sketchy friends but how do we know diSantiscani is in on dealing guns?"

"Because of those." Brian reached a hand out to take the small silver handgun and blue cased cell phone from Gabriella that she had found in the bag. "We never recovered those from the warehouse or the undercover apartment after we pulled him. diSantiscani was there the night it all went down and now they are here? My guy never saw Pico when he was undercover. We sent him under to find enough evidence to connect the two of them but all he did was dig up stuff on diSantiscani. This could be it."

Gabriella listened to his excited explanation as she began flipping through the file folders. If the gun and the phone were any indication, the rest of the contents of the briefcase could be linked to this undercover cop that Brian had sent into the proverbial lions den for evidence of criminal activity. Gabriella's fingers slid over pages of notes and background check, copies of drivers' licenses and photographs. Micah Jackson- criminal record including aggravated assault. Kenneth Price- gun runner for one of the local gangs. Angel Wu- go to girl for the Dragons. Lia Mendez- criminal record for fraud and prostitution. Leon Jenner- criminal record for drug possession with the intent to traffic. Nice people, Gabriella thought before she moved to the next file and her breath caught.

"Detective, you may want to see this." She felt Brian come closer, reading over her shoulder and cursing under his breath.

The name on the file was Xander Barrington. It listed him as an ex-convict who had just been released from parole. He had done time with the military before being dishonourably discharged for assaulting his commanding officer. He then went to jail for three years for drug and weapons possession and although never convicted, had been suspected on weapons and drug smuggling using his contacts overseas from his time on tour with the military. The file painted a picture of a felon, someone Gabriella had never heard of. But, the pictures that accompanied the background papers were of Troy.

"My undercover guy," Brian said of way of explanation. "Spent three months in diSantiscani's warehouse over a year ago til we had to pull him."

"Why?" Gabriella tried to sound non committal, merely interested in the details of the case.

"His handler fucked up. My guy, he hadn't checked in for a couple of days, so his handler showed up to a club that these guys were known to frequent. Only thing was, it was an invite only club. He tried to pass it off as a mistaken address, drunk guy not knowing where he was, but after he left, this guy—" Brian tapped the file for Leon Jenner—"tells diSantiscani that the guy is a cop. My guy, he lays low for a few days, doesn't do anything to draw attention to himself. Then he shows up to work one night and Leon drags him to the back room. Micah Jackson is there. So is Lia Mendez. A few other guys. And diSantiscani. He starts yelling about rats and cops and waving a gun around. Decides that the cop's mole is Micah. Pops him twice in the head."

Gabriella doesn't say anything but picks up the file on Micah Jackson. She sifts through the pages, wondering what made diSantiscani think that he was the mole. Maybe he thought the sentence was too light? Maybe there was a family connection? Maybe he was seen talking to people he shouldn't have been. All the logical explanations that she was thinking though didn't stop the drumming of her heart in her chest when she thought about how close he'd come. Brian was still talking.

"That night before he let them get back to work, diSantiscani took everything. Their phones, their warehouse keys, their guns. We found Jackson's body the next morning, in the industrial district. He had the handler's name written across his forehead. We pulled Bolton two days later. Busted in to the warehouse with a fake warrant for his arrest for failing to pay child support."

"But you never found his gun or his phone." Gabriella slipped the gun back in the bag and took the phone. Brian nodded, his lips pressed into a grim line.

"No, but now it's our link."

Gabriella wanted to punch him but she kept her face neutral as she went about completing her job so she could go back to headquarters and go home.

* * *

She got her wish two hours later. It was nearly midnight when Aaron turned the car into the parking lot of Headquarters and killed the engine. Beside them, Gavin and Jenna were climbing out of their truck, bags and guns over their shoulders and exhaustion written on their faces. Gabriella sighed and picked up her helmet, her un pinned braid swinging forward to rest over her shoulder. Her gloves were tucked in her belt and her jacket was zippered up over the vest.

"Come on, Hotshot," Aaron joked. "All we have to do is restock and debrief and then we can all go home."

Debrief didn't take that long. Mostly it was Gabriella and Aaron relaying what had happened. Their headsets had picked up everything that had been said and then had been transcribed so they didn't have to remember everything little detail. Sarge pointed out the issues with protocol and Troy but in the end it was a small point and Troy being there was an asset to the rookie. After debrief, they restocked, and Gabriella wrote up her own report on the explosives. She wouldn't know much until the official report came back from the lab downtown.

The locker room was dark, the lights flicking on when they detected her motion in the doorway. Jenna had already showered and left, her towel hanging over a laundry bin next to the shower stalls. Gabriella had already left her vest and duty belt in lockup. Leaning down, she unlaced her boots and pulled them off one at a time. Tossing them into her open locker, she stepped back and sank onto the bench behind her. She was tired. That was the easiest emotion or feeling to identify. The call should have been straight forward and while she had disabled the threat without hesitation, the call had been anything but simple.

Ten years. Ten years ago she had stood at the foot of a tree house and looked up at Troy Bolton. Back then she hadn't seen the outcome of that argument. It had taken months before she realized things were over. With so much distance between them, and without the ability to slide back into a routine of daily insults and brutal cruelty, it was too late by the time she saw the ruins. It was easy being apart. No phonecalls or text messages or emails. They didn't see each other. Holidays came and went and there were always reasons that allowed them to exit each other's lives quietly. She had been so angry back then. Angry and confused, and then alone and numb.

Today though, Gabriella wasn't angry. She didn't know what she was but it wasn't angry. Sighing, she pulled the elastic from her hair and fingered the braid apart. Scratching at her scalp to loosen the tendrils, Gabriella thought about Troy and how he had stood in that room. She knew some things. She still heard things. Taylor, Zeke, Jason. They all let things slip once and awhile. Lucy still left her voicemails. She hadn't known he was in the city though. And she didn't know he was working with the PD. That had caught her off guard.

He still had the ability to make her blood run hot and to draw her gaze to his eyes. Troy's looks hadn't faded, in fact he may have even grown into them. He had always been in good shape but it was easy to see that he put in hours at the gym. Vaguely she wondered if he still played basketball. Without thinking, she picked up her phone from where she had set it down and unlocked the screen. Her thumb hovered over the call button next to a name before she shook her head and placed the phone back on the bench.

"Knock, knock." Gabriella turned to see Gavin in the doorway, his arm curling up the doorpost and his head resting against it. "Will and I were going to head to The Shield for a drink since we're not on shift until tomorrow afternoon. You in? I can wait for you if you want." He named the bar that was frequented mostly by police and first responder members.

"No, thanks," she answered quietly. "I'm going to head home. I have an appointment in the morning with my realtor."

"You still haven't found a house yet? It's been a month." He grinned at her as he said it but she knew what he was thinking. She was being picky. Her realtor told her that all the time.

"I'm not in a hurry," she said, shrugging. "I'll take you up the drink another night. Aaron still owes us a round."

"You sure you're okay?" Gavin questioned, frowning as he looked at her. "You and Aaron seemed sort of tense over this cop that was in the room."

"It's nothing. I could just tell that he wasn't going to listen to Aaron and he wasn't in my way. I saw no point in having an argument over it. Aaron and I already talked about it. We're cool." Gabriella stood and walked to her locker, pulling out shower items as she spoke. "Really."

"So it has nothing to do with a personal relationship with the cop." Gavin made sure not to form it as a question. Gabriella froze.

"Of course not. Troy and I haven't seen each other in years. We went to high school together, we used to have mutual friends. Our parents knew each other." She didn't look over her shoulder to watch how Gavin took her explanation. It sounded forced. It was. "That's it. We were just surprised. That's all."

"Okay. Just wanted to check on you." Gavin turned to leave. "Call me if you want a drive tomorrow. I know you hate bringing your precious car to the lot."

She nodded and bade him good night. Gathering her gear, Gabriella quickly showered and got dressed, hanging her uniform in her locker and grabbing her shoulder bag. Swinging her car keys on her finger, she took the steps down the four floors to the lobby and then out the back to the staff parking lot. Sliding behind the wheel of her black convertible and drove the fifteen minutes to her apartment that she rented by the week until she could find a house. Crawling into bed, she hoped that she was exhausted enough to have a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The Shield was quiet even for a weeknight. Troy chalked it up to the time. At an hour past midnight, most of the regulars had left for home. The only ones still left were a group of rookies at the pool tables in the back of the room who had the next day off and a handful of firemen who were celebrating a promotion among the group gathered around a table near the back door. Troy sat at the bar alone. Wes Tobin had joined him after shift but had left to go home to his girlfriend about a half hour ago.

"Bolton, you want another one?" The bartender asked, holding a bottle of beer aloft and pointing.

"No, I'm good, Eli, thanks." Troy tilted the bottle up, lazily, and set it back down.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and closing, admitting a group of guys. Troy recognized one as Aaron Campbellton from the ETU team earlier. He didn't recognize the other two but given the time and the joking, he could assume they were also from the team. Troy held his breath for a moment, watching the door as he took another swig. When no one else entered, Troy downed the rest of his beer in one gulp and placed the bottle on the bar top. Digging for his wallet in his back pocket, he opened it and waited.

"What do you I owe you?" he asked Eli.

"Fifteen bucks," Eli responded with some quick math. "Tobin picked up your first one."

"Here," Troy handed him some cash. "Just put the rest towards the rookies' tab when they finish. Thanks."

Troy replaced his wallet in his back pocket and double checked that his cell phone was still in his pocket. He had his arm in one sleeve of his jacket when the door to the bar opened and Brian walked through, eyes scanning the scarce patrons in the room. Troy sighed internally when Brian's gaze landed on him and he made a direct line to reach him. Pulling the jacket on all the way, Troy waited until Brian reached the bar.

"I was just on my way out." Troy fished his keys out of his pocket, gripping them tightly. He eyed the guys at the table in a back corner.

"I called you earlier." Brian noticed the keys and then raised an eyebrow. "Twice."

"I know." Troy waited a beat and then sighed, running a hand over his hair. "Dude, today was shit. I just want to go home and sleep. I only came here to make sure Bennett didn't get tanked after what went on. I will discuss the case with you tomorrow."

"It's over." Brian delivered the news bluntly. A small smile played at the corners of his lips. "We arrested diSantiscani an hour ago."

"Wha—" Troy froze, his brain trying to follow. "How?"

Marco diSantiscani had proved a complicated, slippery fish. He made sure that his operation ran smoothly and quietly. He took on ex-cons because they had nothing to lose, and lots to gain. It also meant that his business didn't look so white and shiny that the cops became suspicious. In fact, the only that turned the cops onto him in the first place was when the Guns 'n' Gangs unit completed a take down of a gang leader and unearthed a supply of illegal weapons. The gang leader took two bullets to the chest in the raid and coughed up blood and diSantiscani's name while dying on the club floor. Troy had gone undercover to find info on the operation; to learn where the guns were coming from and who they went to. He learned about the employees and had ideas of how product came and went inside furniture and antiques, but he never saw it himself. He never saw buyers or sellers. He never saw Javier Pico. That connection was a long shot.

"Where diSantiscani didn't keep paperwork, apparently Pico did. Maybe their plan was that Pico would never be discovered. Who knows? But the ETU found our link between diSantiscani and Pico and with all the stuff we found in Pico's house, it didn't take much to convince a judge to sign a warrant. diSantiscani is currently sitting in booking at Station Twenty-Eight." Brian gave Troy a full fledged grin.

"You know I wanted to arrest the bastard myself," Troy growled, his fist tightening around the keys. "You should have sent for me."

"I couldn't have you there. It would have caused evidence nightmares and his lawyers would have had a field day with it," Brian replied, shaking his head. "Besides, you were off duty and we couldn't wait for you. It had to be fast."

"Brian, what did they find?" Troy's voice was low. Brian had let him search Pico's house without worry for evidence, so what had they found connecting the Importer/Exporter to the Antique dealer? The fact that Brian seemed to be weighing his answer did nothing to ease Troy's growing annoyance.

"Your gun." Brian finally admitted. "The one he took at the warehouse the night that Micah Jackson was shot."

"You mean the night that McKnight almost got me made." Troy scoffed. "My gun wouldn't be enough to convince a judge though. It didn't have a traceable serial number on it."

"She also found your cell phone and a bunch of files on diSantiscani's employees. Micah, Leon, Lia, some others, and Xander Barrington." Ford brought out his phone and scrolled through the pictures before handing it to Troy. There was his gun and cell phone, still in its blue case. "He even had pictures of every employee. Pico had no reason to have them if there wasn't a connection."

"It's not solid though. It could still go to hell." Troy was trying to think of any loose ends, anything that could be searched now that there was cause. Something else was bothering him about what Brian had told him. His gaze was drawn back to Campbellton and his teammates. "You said ETU found this stuff. After I left?"

"Yeah," Brian confirmed. "And there are still lots of possibilities, but now it's up to the DA. Our biggest question now is where were they getting them and how but with all the military gear involved it's probably going to be handed over to the FBI. The ETU weapons specialist helping us tonight made some calls to find out some information but she didn't get very far."

"Gabriella." That's what had bothered him about Brian's explanation of the arrest. He had repeatedly referred to the ETU guy as 'she'.

"Yeah, Montez. She's new to the unit but she knows her stuff. I talked to her sergeant. She worked in the military sector for a bit and then with the FBI. She's already given a bunch of leads for the landmines you found." Brian had a look on his face that Troy hadn't seen on anyone since leaving East High. He was smitten. Troy glared at him. "Speaking of which, you and I need to have a serious chat with the Captain tomorrow about you refusing orders from ETU."

"Whatever," Troy scoffed, bracing his hands against the bar and leaning into them. "What did you tell her?"

"What do you mean?" Brian scrunched his eyebrows together, frowning.

"Gabriella. ETU. How much did you tell her about the undercover op with diSantiscani? You said she found the files." Troy waited, but Brian was once again thinking through his answers. He would make for a crap undercover cop. "You told her everything, didn't you?"

"Not everything. I glossed over what happened in the warehouse." Brian ran a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. "We're all on the same team, Troy. We share what we know with each other."

"I know, I know," Troy admitted. "It's just—Nothing. Never mind. We got them."

"So are you going to stick around and celebrate with me?" Brian asked, grinning and holding a hand up to signal Eli over.

"Nah, Man. I'm still going to call it a night. Maybe another time." Troy nodded and zipped up his jacket.

Jamming his hands into his pockets he pushed through the door to The Shield with his shoulders. The night was cool, with a touch of fall. The sky was clear and Troy remembered what fall had felt like in New York City. Walking through the parking lot, Troy paused and contemplated taking his truck home. He had only had three beer over the course of the night but he decided he'd prefer to walk. Sucking in a breath he made sure the truck was locked before heading north down the sidewalk towards his townhouse.

The walk allowed him to think. When he and Gabriella had fallen apart ten years ago, it had been the opposite of every argument they had ever had. Instead of exploding and retaliating, they had imploded. They became silent. Their friends never spoke of them in front of the other. His parents only spoke of her in the vaguest ways. It didn't mean he never thought of her. He had. He did. Little things would remind him of something. Parts of his life were still entwined with her.

Climbing the steps to his townhouse a couple of blocks from the bar, Troy shoved his keys in the lock and pushed open the door. Tossing his keys in the wooden bowl on a table inside the front door, Troy bolted the door behind him. He hung his jacket on a hook and toed off his shoes. Pulling out his cell phone, he glanced at the screen and then carried it up the stairs to his bedroom.

On his back, staring up at the ceiling, Troy scrolled through his contacts before selecting one. He waited for sound of the phone dialling and then the voicemail on the other end to ramble through their message. At the beep, Troy hesitated and then left a hurried message.

It was awhile before he fell asleep.


	4. Define Alignment

**The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us**

_Disclaimer: I do not own HSM. Or Flashpoint. Or Rookie Blue. _

**Chapter Four- Define Alignment**

_alignment (noun):arrangement in correct relative positions or a position of agreement._

* * *

Troy pulled his cruiser over to the shoulder of the road behind a black sports car. Shutting off the siren, he let the lights run as he punched the license plate number into his computer system and waited to see if there were any alerts on file. In the passenger seat, Evan was radioing in their position to headquarters. Reaching into the backseat, Troy grabbed his cap and jammed it on his head before pushing open the door and exiting the vehicle.

"Let me know if something comes up on the plates," he told Evan before shutting the door.

One hand on the hilt of his holstered gun, Troy walked the few feet to the driver's side window. He took the chance to look over the car for any details that seemed misplaced. The black paint gleamed in the sunlight. A sporty model, custom rims, designer briefcase on the backseat. Reaching the window, Troy put his free hand on the roof of the car and bent down. The inside of the car was polished as was the driver. A young, blond woman sat behind the wheel, her rearview mirror tilted to catch her reflection as she applied a tube of lipstick to her pouting lips. Troy clenched his jaw.

"Good morning, Ma'am," he offered with a forced grin.

"Officer," she responded with a dazzling smile. Her polished nails drummed on the steering wheel. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes," Troy told her bluntly. "You were speeding."

"Was I?" She asked, her voice nearly purring. "I never drive this car, but my boyfriend has mine in the shop so he told me to take his. He wasn't lying when he said to watch the gas pedal, I guess."

"Do you want to guess at how fast you were going?" Troy asked, pulling out his ticket book. "I'm going to need to see some identification and your vehicle permit and insurance."

"Is that really necessary?" The woman asked, instantly making Troy narrow his eyes at her. "Can't you just give me a warning or something? That's what happened the last time."

"Ma'am, I need to see your ID now, please." Troy replied, not changing the tone of his voice. The last time she probably managed to flirt her way out of it, he thought. "And for the record, you were going twenty miles over the limit in a school zone."

"But shouldn't the kids be in school by now?" the woman offered as she handed over her license and corresponding paperwork. Her fingers rested a moment against Troy's hand. She removed them when he glared.

"Miss Scott, is it?" Troy asked, looking at her license, "A school zone is always a school zone, just so there is no misunderstanding next time," he told her as he glanced over the other papers. "I'll be right back." Returning to the cruiser, he handed the paperwork over to Evan to run through the system while he filled out the speeding ticket. "What number is that? Five, six?" He asked.

"Eight, sir," Evan reported, handing back Miss Scott's things. "For us anyway. I haven't been counting those that Callum and Kate have stopped."

"I hate speed traps," Troy reminded him as he signed the speeding ticket and folded up his notebook. "Really hate them. This is punishment."

"For what?" Evan asked.

"Ignoring ETU protocol. Arguing about ignoring ETU protocol. Informing Dan that ETU protocol is stupid. It could be anything." Troy told him, exiting the cruiser again to give Miss Scott her speeding ticket and accompanying fine.

He flashed her his most endearing smile that she didn't return and he resisted the urge to chase her down and give her a new ticket for the way she tore up the gravel speeding away from the shoulder of the road. Returning to the cruiser, he radioed back to the other officers manning the speed trap one block back to tell them he and Evan were back in service.

Three hours later, Troy and Evan were back at the station on a thirty minute break. They had arrested a guy on impaired driving and when they had dropped him off in booking, Captain Dan Fleming had told them to take a break and find him in a half hour. He had a job for them. Which was how Troy found himself checking his voicemail while digging through his locker for a bottle of Advil. One was a hangup, another was from his mother asking about Sunday dinner (or brunch, she suggested, if he was working the night shift), and the other was a reply to his phonecall the night before. Finding the bottle, Troy spun off the top, shook out two, and then tossed it back in his locker before sinking down on the bench and listening to Jason Cross's voice.

"Hey, man, I'm just returning your call, but I guess you're sleeping off a shift or you're on duty. I got to say, I was surprised to hear from you. It's been what? Six months? Anyway, I know what you're asking me but that's classified and I can't talk about it. I can tell you that I was with her in Iraq, had to be about two years ago now. You had to see her, man, you haven't seen anything until you have seen Gabriella Montez in camos and covered in sand," Troy winced as he heard the laughter in Jason's voice. "Anyway, I didn't know she was home, or I would have given you a heads up. Or her the heads up. Just—" there was a sigh, "—Just talk to her Troy. If you get the chance. Bye."

Hanging up, Troy sat for a moment, his hands dangling between his knees. Tilting his head back, he swallowed the Advil tablets without water and closed his eyes. He hadn't known what to expect when he called Jason the night before. Jase was right, they did barely speak now. For one, it had been nearly seven years since Jason had joined the army and since then, Troy never knew when he in the US or overseas somewhere. When they had both been on tour, it had been nearly impossible to track one another. Secondly, to talk to Jason meant hearing about everyone else, which was something Troy didn't want to do. However, the last Troy had heard, Jason had been assigned to a battalion that dealt with the safety of non-military personnel in war zones. Troy had hoped that Jason could offer insight to Gabriella's knowledge of military grade weaponry. All Jason's message had informed him of was that his friends knew things he didn't, and that Gabriella had spent time in Iraq.

A knock on the locker room door announced Evan arrival as he pushed it open, calling out. Troy stood, turning to offer the rookie a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah?" He asked, running his hands through his hair and replacing his cap.

"Captain asked for us to meet him in his office." Evan turned and disappeared out the door.

* * *

Trying to ignore the fact that the Captain's office had glass for three of its four walls, and the fact that the entire precinct could see what was going on, Troy slammed his cap down on the desk and shook his head. Tilting his head back, he laughed without humour. He caught Ruby Snow's amused look from the desks in the bullpen down below but refused to acknowledge the display he was putting on. Dan should have lowered the blinds.

"You have got to be kidding me," Troy asked, incredulous. "We have been manning speed traps for six hours. Now you want us to go knocking on doors to provide a public service announcement about little teenaged hoodlums wreaking havoc on garden gnomes and stealing BBQ propane tanks?"

"I am dead serious," Dan informed him, not even bothering to look up from where he was reading over a report on his desk. "You are to take the flyers and knock on every door. You will ask if they have seen anything. You will ask if perhaps they themselves are victims and just didn't think it important enough to report it. In the mean time, you will also be looking out for said 'teenage hoodlums' in hopes that your imposing and angry appearance will scare them into stopping their obnoxious behavior."

"We're looking for something else, right? A stolen car suspected to be in the area? A possible grow op or meth lab in basement?" Troy suggested.

"Are you implying," Dan began as he straightened and looked Troy dead in the eye, "That a neighborhood canvas is beneath you?"

"No, Sir," Troy replied. "Not at all. Come on, Bennett, let's go adventuring."

Troy turned on his heel and stormed from the office, Evan hurrying behind him with the thick packet of flyers. He didn't even bother to stop and grab a coffee from the break room. He shot Wes Tobin a withering glare as they went by, his hands full of evidence folders and boxes. When they reached the parking lot, Troy tossed Evan the keys to the cruiser. Without a word, he got in the passenger seat as Evan stared dumbfounded at the keys. When he finally got in the driver's seat, he looked over at Troy. Curiosity brightened his features but he quickly looked away when Troy looked over.

"Questions, Bennett?" Troy growled, tugging his phone from inside his pocket. Scrolling through his contact list, he selected one and fired off a message.

"No, Sir." Evan carefully manoeuvred the car out of the lot and towards the neighborhood they had been asked to canvas. "Well, maybe," he added after a moment.

"Spit it out, Bennett. We're almost there." Troy put the phone away and re-read the words on the flyers. They were pretty basic. It alerted the reader to an ongoing investigation regarding complaints about property theft and vandalism. The reader was encouraged to lock their vehicles and doors at night and to leave on any outside lights to deter vandals. A contact number was listed but they were to call 911 if they felt threatened.

"I've never actually done a neighborhood canvas," Evan admitted.

Troy sighed rubbed his temples. He should have brought the Advil with him. Sitting up straighter, he began instructing Evan on procedure for a proper canvas. He went over radio calls, ground rules and protocols. You were to look friendly and unimposing. You were not to enter the home alone. You were to inform your partner of any suspicious behavior. You were to take note if something feels out of place. You were not to reveal details of the investigation.

"Alright," Troy said when they pulled over on the first street they were assigned to. "Call in to dispatch, and grab a stack of these. I will take this side of the street and you take that one." Troy nodded his head to the houses across the street. "Remember to take the keys out of the car and lock up. We have four hours left and then we can go home."

Adjusting his bullet-proof vest and his duty belt, Troy grabbed his own stack of papers and began walking up the neatly tiled driveway of the first house. He made sure not to step on any of the plants that lined the path and he noted the SUV in the driveway. Raising a fist, he knocked gently on the front door after being unable to locate a doorbell. He readied himself when he heard pounding on the stairs inside and a dog barking. It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

Gabriella was rummaging through a gear bag in the back of the team's SUV when her cell phone went off. Pulling off her utility gloves, she turned off her headset and radio before digging into the pocket on her vest and pulling out her cell phone. She took note of the caller and debated letting it go to voicemail but thought better of it and answered.

"Gabriella?" Helena asked over the phone, "It's Helena Carpenter from PointOne Realty. Are you free for the moment?"

"I have a few minutes," Gabriella told her. "We're just taking a quick break to restock and organize. If a call comes through though, I'm going to have to hang up."

"That's fine. I just wanted to let you know that I submitted your offer for the house over on Oak Street that we looked at this morning? The one with the balcony? If I hear anything back, I will let you know, but they will need to know fairly quickly if you're going to take it. What's the best way to reach you for the rest of the day?" Helena asked brusquely.

"I'm on shift until ten tonight," Gabriella informed her, gnawing her lip as she thought. "Can I just authorize you to say yes if they call back? You know how high I'll go. Just go ahead and get it done. It's the one I want."

"I can definitely do that," Helena confirmed. "I will still call and let you know, but if you don't answer, I will deal with them myself based on our discussions. You know the roof will need to be replaced?"

"Yes, and that's fine. Just remind them of that if they get sticky with the price." Gabriella and Helena covered a few more points before she hung up and turned around, biting out a gasp of surprise.

"Sorry," Aaron told her, smirking. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"So why did you stand behind me for five minutes waiting?" Gabriella shot back, her heart slowly returning to normal. "What's up?"

"Team Four is on a call on the west side," Aaron told her, "So we are officially in the hot seat." It meant that if a call came in, no matter where, Gabriella's Team Three would be the ones to take it.

"Well, this SUV is all ready to go. Gavin finished the inventory list and I swapped out all the battery operated gear for fresh stuff." Gabriella zipped up a bag and moved it out of the way. Grabbing her helmet, she walked around to the front seat and tossed it on the ground so it wouldn't be forgotten. She flicked her headset and radio back on.

"Sarge also needs you to run up to his office and sign your report on the weapons search last night when you get the chance. He tried to get you on the radio." Aaron tapped his headset with a finger.

"I turned it off to take a quick call," Gabriella said. She would have heard the alarm for hot call come over the SUV system. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she checked it again. Not recognizing the number, she let it go to voicemail. "I put an offer in on a house this morning. My realtor called with the details."

"You finally found a house?" Aaron, remarked. "It's about time."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Gabriella asked, leaning against the vehicle with her arms crossed over her chest. She didn't bother pulling down her sunglasses from where they rested on her head so the glare of the sun had her squinting slightly. "It's not a cereal flavor or a new set of sheets. It's a house. It's a big investment. I have to live in it. Who cares if it takes me a while to find one I like?"

"Whoa," Aaron exclaimed with a grin, throwing his hands up in defence. "I'm sorry. It's just that I've seen some of the houses you have looked at and they were beautiful. What made you finally pick this one?"

"You're going to laugh at me," she said. She dropped her eyes to the ground.

"What? Why?" he asked, scrunching his face up. "Does it have a giant walk-in closet or something?"

"No," she answered, feeling uncomfortable. For a moment, a name dashed across her mind and she felt her fingers itch to call. She picked at a string on her uniform. "It has a balcony though, and a climbing rose vine underneath. It has way too many rooms for one person but I can use them as storage and an office or library space. I will keep one as a guest room. The kitchen has been redone and it's only a fifteen minute walk from the high school which will make it easy to resell later on."

"Sounds great," Aaron admitted. "Why would I laugh at you?"

"It's where I—" She was interrupted by the alarm blaring from the speaker on the dashboard of the SUV and her personal radio. "—Never mind. We're rolling."

"Active call, Team Three!" Sergeant Sam Hill called over their headsets as he and the rest of the team burst out of the back the ETU entrance and raced to vehicles. "Aaron and Montez, Truck One, Gavin and Will, Truck Two, Jenna and I are taking the command truck. I'll feed you information as we go."

* * *

An hour and a half later, Aaron pulled the SUV into a gas station on the way back to headquarters. Handing a company credit card over to Gabriella, he lifted the nozzle and hooked it up to the gas tank. Gabriella left him to fill the SUV while she went inside to pay. Grabbing two bottles of water and a bag of pretzels, she waited inside for Aaron to finish before she stepped up to the counter. Jenna and Will entered the store a few moments later, just as Gabriella was collecting her receipt. Both flashed identical credit cards that were linked to their assigned SUVs.

Balancing her purchases in both hands, Gabriella pushed open the door with her shoulder. Outside, she tossed a bottle of water at Aaron who caught it easily. She placed her own bottle on the front seat of the SUV and then leaned against the door, listening to Sarge's conversation with Gavin and Aaron about their last call. Popping a pretzel in her mouth she silently offered one to the guys who shook their heads.

The last call had been quick and straight forward. Gabriella never considered an ETU call easy. They had been called to a night club well known for its underhanded dealings during the day. Originally the call had indicated active shooting at the club and the team had jumped to the conclusion of a drug deal gone wrong. Instead, they had shown up to learn that the shooter was a twenty-five year old masters student from U of A who had come to warn the club's staff to keep his underage sister out of their club and away from their coke head bouncers. He had fired two shots at the ceiling and then barricaded himself and the owner in the office behind the bar. Sarge had managed to talk him into opening the door and putting down the gun. The fact that half a dozen prescription bottles without labels had been scattered over the desk had served enough reason for a probable cause search and the local police had managed to unearth enough evidence to arrest the owner. Gabriella considered it a successful call. Not easy, though.

"Aaron tells us that you may finally have found your house," Sarge remarked with a smile. "Does that mean you will be joining us at The Shield tonight for some celebratory drinks?"

"Do you guys have a schedule made up somewhere for who will ask me to join you for drinks each night?" Gabriella asked, popping another pretzel in her mouth. "Is it a team goal?"

"More like a challenge," Gavin joked, taking a pretzel from her bag. "And how about it? We are off tomorrow and you may have a house by the end of the day. Give me a reason to not come with us."

Gabriella could think of one specific reason that had surfaced in the past twenty-four hours, but she didn't say anything. Truthfully, she wasn't a big drinker and although she knew it was common among the police force to meet up and decompress after a tough shift, she had never felt comfortable drinking more than one beer with the people she worked with. She had been to The Shield a handful of times since returning to Albuquerque, despite their jokes, and she had enjoyed herself. She just didn't want to make a habit of it. Failing to come up with a valid reason for this time, she shrugged.

"Sure, why not?" she said. "But I'm not buying. Aaron is."

"No worries," Gavin said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Aaron is buying for all of us."

'_Attention, Team Three,'_ The radio on Sam's shoulder buzzed. _'We have a request for backup at 146 Sherridan Lane. Possible domestic situation in progress. Local PD are already on scene. They have not been able to establish communication. Please be advised, the owner has a registered handgun on file.'_

"Alright, team, Active Call," Sam called out, informing dispatch that they were enroute. "Let's go."

* * *

Troy was beginning to think that Evan Bennett was a danger magnet. His first day on the job, Evan had stumbled upon a dead body under an overpass. Someone had called in to complain about the homeless sleeping along the running trails. On his second day, he managed to stay out of trouble so Troy had marked it up to first day bad luck. Then yesterday, which should be noted as Evan's sixth day on the job, he had held explosives and had to be rescued by ETU. Now, on a day that Dan had attempted to ensure was the most boring day of Troy's career to date, Evan managed to knock on the door of a couple trying to kill each other.

Their shift was nearly over. Another hour and Troy could change back into his civvies and join Ruby and Wes at The Shield. It was end of their shift rotation and the place would be crowded. Troy was actually looking forward to it. Until now. Now, he was hovering behind a bush with Evan on the other side of the walkway, while the two of them waited for backup.

He had spent the afternoon knocking on doors, talking to old ladies, women with screaming babies, teenagers with friends who ignored the demands to turn the music down, and doors that went unanswered but had yappy little ankle biter dogs scratching at the side windows. Evan's canvas had pretty much been the same. Then he had radioed Troy to say that he could hear yelling and screaming coming from the two story home four houses up from Troy's location on the opposite side of the street. After joining him, Troy confirmed to dispatch that there was indeed a domestic incident occurring and that occupants seemed uninterested in answering their door.

'_This is dispatch to Unit 28-14'_, the radio blared, '_Be advised that the occupants possess a licensed hand gun. Backup from Station 28 is on its way. ETU Team Three is enroute. All PD units are asked to stand down.'_

"Dispatch, this is Unit 28-14," Troy called in, "The vehicle in the driveway—License plate LLN-586—Has a military insignia magnet on the bumper. Can you run it through the system and see who we're dealing with?"

'_Copy that, Unit 28-14',_ the dispatcher replied.

Troy let go of his radio and adjusted his grip on his gun. Inching closer to the house, he strained to hear. Earlier, the couple must have been near an open window because he and Evan could hear every word. Now, he could only hear the rise and fall of voices, but not the actual words. Signaling to Evan, Troy watched the rookie strain to hear and then shake his head. So Evan couldn't make out anything either. Awesome, Troy thought.

'_Unit 28-14, be advised that the vehicle is registered to Private Owen Collins; currently on leave from the Kirtland Military Air Base.'_ Troy's radio hummed and he cursed. He hated dealing with military guys. You never knew what their triggers were.

He heard sirens approaching from the end of the street. A police cruiser pulled into the driveway across the street, another in the driveway next door. Troy made note of the officers who got out of the vehicles, guns drawn. They positioned themselves around the perimeter of the house. Troy's attention was jerked back to the house when the yelling increased. They must have neared a window again. This time there was a crash and the sound of glass shattering. The yelling grew louder. Troy could make out a woman's voice and a male's. Something about a car and a mother and the garage. The sound of more vehicles approaching had him look towards the street.

The bottle of Advil waiting in his locker taunted him as he watched the occupants of the first SUV exit their vehicle with submachine guns slung over their shoulders. He recognized the officer exiting the driver's seat in the second SUV and his gut tightened as he slid his gaze to the third SUV that was rolling to a stop. The sun glinted off her plaited hair before she clipped her helmet in place. Troy watched as she pulled equipment from the backseat before rounding the front of the vehicle to join her team. Evan wasn't the problem magnet, Troy realized as his hands tightened over the grip of his gun when she glanced in his direction. He was.

"The ETU team sergeant wants to talk to you and Bennett," Wes informed Troy as he knelt beside him. "Wants to know what made you call it in and if anything has happened since."

" 'Kay," Troy answered quietly, signaling for Evan to follow him to the road where the group clustered around the hood of the lead SUV. Reaching the truck, Troy clicked on the safety on his gun and motioned for Evan to holster his weapon. He ignored Gabriella. "Sir?" He asked, addressing the sergeant.

"Sam Hill," the older guy said by way of introduction. "What can you tell us?"

"We were doing a neighborhood canvas. Informing the area that there had been a number of reports regarding vandalism, and giving them a number to call in to if they should see anything suspicious. Officer Bennett knocked on the Collins' door but heard shouting coming from upstairs. There is an open window above the porch." Troy pointed it out with his hand. "He knocked again; no one answered. He called me over. The yelling continued."

"So you called in a domestic disturbance," Sam noted, eyeing the house. Troy nodded. "And then?"

"We called out, identified ourselves. We were about to spread out, check to see if there was a back door that may be more feasible to enter through. A screen door they may be able to hear us with." Troy shrugged. "Before we could, dispatch told us they had run the address and there was a registered weapon on the premises. We were told to stand down and wait."

"Okay, so do we know anything else?" Sam asked, "Dispatch did a vehicle search?"

"The truck in the driveway has a military magnet on the bumper. I gave the plate to dispatch. The owner is military from Kirtland—The husband, I am assuming, but I could be wrong." Troy offered. He was trying to focus on the questions and not the fact that Gabriella was screwing a sniper scope into place on her long range rifle.

"You didn't happen to hear anything regarding their argument?" Sam mentioned, looking at what Troy realized were blueprints. The block they were on had been mass built. All the homes were the same. It made sense how easy it could be to get a copy of the prints.

"Just snippets, Sir," Evan piped up. "Something about her mother, and his truck. Someone smashed something just before you got here but they were both still yelling. Before we called for backup he kept asking her who had been there. Kept repeating it. She kept saying something about the garage."

"Great," Sam replied. "A love affair. Or at least he thinks there's a love affair." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Thank you, officers." It was a dismissal but since he hadn't blatantly told them to get lost, Troy hung back and listened. "Alright, I am going to attempt to establish contact. Jenna and Will, take the front door. Aaron, find a back door. Gabriella and Gavin, see if you can figure out where they are in the house. If you can breach the backdoor safely, do it."

"Unit 28-03 to Unit 28-14," Troy's radio blared to life with Dan's distinctive voice. "If ETU is finished with you, I need another unit to help with the blockade at the north end of the street."

The ETU sergeant didn't even hesitate to wave Troy off. Holding back a groan, Troy envisioned himself pounding the heavy bag in the gym back at the station. Letting out a breath, he radioed back to the captain and then took the keys from Evan. He may not like the way Dan had been giving him the most mundane jobs available that day, but Troy wasn't stupid. The best place for him to be was as far from Gabriella as possible.

* * *

Gabriella flipped her hair over her shoulder and kept a tight grip on her clutch as she pulled open the door to The Shield later that night. Freshly showered after a post incident workout, she could almost forget about her crappy shift. Of course there had been the kid at the club and then domestic incident with the air force pilot who had come home on leave to discover a foreign toolbox in his garage. Turned out it belonged to his brother-in-law but not before he and his wife had smashed two vases, a lamp, and laptop and embarrassed each other. They had probably smashed up their marriage too, Gabriella thought, but let it go. That had led to an armed robbery at a convenience store around the corner from East High which meant shutting down the school and the football game while they tried to locate the gunman. Needless to say, Gabriella could really use a drink.

She slid past the groups of people hanging out around the bar, and noted the band setting up near the stage area. Hearing her name, she craned her neck to spot Gavin and Jenna already seated on stools around a bar table. Smiling, she slipped off her dark blue coat and unwound her scarf before draping them over the back of her stool. She set her clutch on the table.

"Ooh, cute bag!" Jenna exclaimed, picking it up and examining it. "Is this authentic?" She pointed to the designer label.

"Yeah," Gabriella admitted, "But I know the designer so it's not like I paid the price to go with it. I actually think it was a gift a few years ago."

"You know the designer for Stars & Dazzle?" Jenna asked, wide eyed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, we went school together. I never see her anymore but once and awhile I will get an email or an invitation to an opening." Gabriella grinned and accepted her bag back, riffling through to find her phone. She clicked the volume as high as it would go and then opened her photo album. Scrolling through, she selected an image and turned the screen to Jenna and Gavin. "So, guess who is an official homeowner?"

"You got it!" Gavin yelled, loud enough that the tables closest to them looked their way briefly. "Congrats!"

"Yeah," Gabriella told them, turning off the screen and putting it away. "Helena called me when I was in the locker room. You're lucky too. I was ready to ditch you all and go home."

"Ugh, today was brutal. I mean, all the calls ended well, but it was non stop," Jenna complained. "Oh! Aaron has our drinks!"

Gabriella turned just at an arm reached to set the glasses on his tray down. Aaron slid a beer in front of Gavin and a wellshot glass in front of Jenna. Gabriella smelled rum and coke. Taking the final glass off the tray, Aaron set another beer in front of Gabriella.

"Here, take mine. I'll grab another one," he told her. "Sarge and Will are at the bar chatting with Pat Landry." He named a member of the ETU Team Two. "They should be over in a minute."

"Montez got her house," Gavin announced. Gabriella punched him in the arm. "What! We're celebrating."

"The one with the balcony and the too many rooms?" Aaron asked. Gabriella nodded, smiling. "Good for you."

"Thanks," she said, sipping her beer. She licked at the froth on her lip. "What is this?"

"The microbrew on tap," Aaron told her. "One of the guys recommended it while I was waiting. I got it for me though so if you don't like it, leave and I'll get you something else."

"No, it's good. I was just wondering." She took another sip.

Sam and Will joined them shortly after and Aaron made a second trip to the bar for another round. Gabriella sat and chatted with her team, enjoying the idea of getting to know them outside of regular work hours. It was less professional, certain things became acceptable to talk about. Jenna was talking about how different Albuquerque was to her native Denver in Colorado. Gabriella dropped a few names of people she knew from the city. Jenna shook her head.

"I know its big," Gabriella laughed, "but worth a shot. The world is a small place."

"It is," Jenna replied. "So what made you decide to come back home after all this time?"

"It wasn't my first choice, actually," Gabriella admitted. "But I wasn't a fan of Sante Fe, and when the position opened up here, it seemed like a good idea."

"Seemed like?" Jenna questioned, taking another drink from her rum and coke. "As in not so much now?"

"No, as in I have run into a few surprises," Gabriella amended. "I like the job and I have always liked the city, but it's been awhile. It brings up memories."

"Like your mom?" Jenna asked. "That would be tough."

"Surprisingly, no," Gabriella said, setting down her beer. "I think Mom is one of the reasons I decided to come back. As far as Mom goes, Albuquerque has only good memories."

Their conversation changed direction after that. Gabriella asked about different technology seminars that Jenna had mentioned attending and Gavin jumped in to mention an upcoming conference regarding tactical entries and rappelling gear. Gabriella followed along, pitching in ideas and knowledge of negotiations based on profiling techniques she had learned at Quantico. The group was in the middle of discussing all the candidates that Gabriella had beat out when she had applied for the opening for Team Three when she excused herself to go to the bathroom.

Leaving the bathroom, she decided she would have one more beer and then call a cab to take her back to her apartment. With her two off days on the rotation occurring during the week, she planned to take advantage and meet with Helena to discuss the closing of the house. She also needed to arrange movers and call the storage company in Santa Fe who still had the majority of her things. Deep in thought, she rounded the corner of the narrow hallway leading from the bathrooms to the bar and slammed into the solid chest of someone taller than she.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, stumbling back a bit on her flat soled boots. "I am so sorry."

"It's no harm," her victim answered, his voice low. "I can take it."

"Troy," she breathed, looking up to meet his deep blue eyes. He was watching her and it made her uncomfortable. "I am really sorry."

"And I am really okay." He didn't move though and Gabriella didn't know what to do.

"I uh—should get back," she gestured towards the crowded room just beyond reach. "It's been—You look good." She tripped over her words, suddenly feeling flushed and shaky and knowing it had little to do with the alcohol. He did look good. Really good. But it meant very little considering how they had left things. Where they had left things. He didn't speak for a moment and she took the opportunity to squeeze past him and continue towards her teammates.

"Hey, Brie," he called out, just a moment before she disappeared around the corner and into the noise. When she looked back over her shoulder, she could see the planes and shadows cast across his face. "You look good too."

Nodding, she returned to the table and finished her drink. Twenty minutes later, she and Will were standing on the curb outside waiting for a cab to take them both in the same direction home. With her hands shoved deep into her pockets, she felt her fingers brush against something foreign. Pulling her hand out, she found herself holding a standard issue Albuquerque Police Department business card with Troy's personal cell number scrawled across the back. She was still staring at it when the cab pulled up. She jammed the card back in her pocket before climbing into the back seat after Will.


	5. Define Red

**The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us**

_Disclaimer: I do not own HSM. Or Flashpoint. Or Rookie Blue. _

**Chapter Five- Define Red**

_red (adjective):a color at the end of the spectrum, as of rubies, fire, or blood. _

_Sometimes a characteristic associated with heat._

* * *

Gabriella was satisfied with the productivity of her day. That part of her personality hadn't changed much since her teenage years. She still enjoyed the feeling of completing tasks and keeping busy. As she unloaded her groceries into her half empty fridge, she mentally checked off the list stuck to the refrigerator door. She had been to Helena's office and gone over the paperwork that needed to be dealt with before they could close on her new house. She had been to the bank. She had arranged for her things in Santa Fe to be shipped to the Albuquerque office location. She had window shopped for the perfect dining room set. She hadn't had a dining room in Santé Fe. Or Washington.

Humming to herself, she placed the milk and bag of apples in the fridge, followed by four readymade salads and a carton of orange juice. She restocked the eggs and put the chicken breasts in the freezer. Reaching over her head, she placed the box of cereal and the can of coffee on the lowest shelf. Leaving the bananas next to the blender, she bent down and picked up the remaining bag. Leaving the kitchen, she walked down the hallway to the laundry room where she deposited the detergent and fabric softener before continuing to her bedroom. She dropped the small shopping bag of cosmetics on her dresser and rummaged through it until she produced the To-Go stain remover. She read the directions as she walked to her closet, eyeing the coat the hung on the hook.

Pulling the cap off the magic pen, she ran her fingers over the sleeve of the coat until she found the spot she had discovered that morning. She must have put her elbow in a puddle of spilled drink or something equally sticky. It made the dark blue wool of her coat appear black. Sighing, she scanned the directions again before applying the tip to the sleeve. When she finished, she replaced the cap and returned to her dresser. Unzipping her makeup bag, she began sorting through the newly purchased items, swapping them for the older and unsalvageable ones in the bag. When she pulled the label off a new stick of lipstick, she paused, remembering what had prompted the purchase. She had thought it had been lost at the bar, but a flash of memory caught her and she turned to the coat on the hook. Four steps had her back to the closet, her hands rummaging in first one pocket and then the other. She pulled out the lost item and Troy's business card.

Turning it over in her hands, Gabriella thought of how many new cell phones she had bought since her freshmen year of university. She relived each time she transferred her old contacts, never deleting Troy's despite knowing the number was useless. Flicking the card lightly with her fingers, she glanced to her phone bulging in her jeans pocket. Her fingers brushed against it lightly and then pulled away. She put the new lipstick in her bag and then gathered up the rejected items and dumped them in her bathroom garbage bin before returning to the kitchen. Placing the card on the counter, she looked at it again. Her teeth bit into her lip. Finally, she spun and stuck it to the fridge door with a magnet painted with the Hollywood sign. One final look, and she grabbed her keys and wallet and left the apartment. She had other things to do today.

* * *

The coffee shop was crowded when Gabriella entered to join the post-lunch hour crowd. Putting her order in, she leaned against the pick-up counter and scanned the room. It was habit, something she had picked up from training drills and experiences. It happened every time she was in an unfamiliar space. She looked first for the entrances and exits. The she looked for how the windows were laid out. She would plan multiple tactical entries in and then exits from the room. She then scanned the crowd. She took note of what they looked like, how they acted, who they were with, and whether or not they reacted to her. It was more effective when she was in uniform. Either way, she had information burned into her mind by the time the barista called her name and handed her the steaming cup of caffeine.

Making certain not to spill her drink, Gabriella wound her way through the collection of chairs and stools and tables to find a table for two in the far back corner. It was out of the way and quiet. No one was seated at the tables closest to it, and it allowed for her to have a view of the entire area. Unbuttoning her jacket, she ran a hand through her hair and waited. Fifteen minutes later, she caught sight of Antonia Holland entering the shop. The former MIT computer programming professor turned FBI intelligence training officer smiled warmly when she located Gabriella.

Gabriella had respect for Antonia. She had been a young professor at Georgetown University when Gabriella was first thrust into the world of political warfare. Antonia's professional niche was computer programming and satellite signals, although she frequently worked on cases with the FBI. Officially she was an expert on government internet security and software connected to aircraft rockets. Unofficially, Antonia had spent her high school and undergraduate university years hacking into anything she wanted. She remained Gabriella's go-to link for information at the FBI.

"You look good," Antonia told her, scooping her honey blonde hair off her shoulders and tossing it into a pretty bun. "I'm glad you called."

"I'm sorry it was work related, though," Gabriella admitted, eyeing the manila folder clutched in Antonia's hands. "Did you find anything?"

"Not much," Antonia admitted, handing the folder to Gabriella. "The agents who took over the case created a list of everything seized in your search. They have separate lists for weapons that are believed to be linked to your dealers." Antonia sighed. "It's a mess, really. You guys found guns that every hunter in the state has probably used, and then you found guns that the United Nations have banned their members from using. There is no way to profile one particular buyer. I tried running combinations through the tracking system to see if someone out there has a weapons habit that is predictable. I couldn't find any. I tried looking into government reports that mention lost shipments or inventory, I tried searching through chat sessions on forums. I found nothing, Gabi."

"So either there is more than one buyer, or someone has never been tracked or discovered yet." Gabriella set her coffee cup down and ran a finger over her lips, thinking. "Anything stand out in particular?"

"Yeah, actually," Antonia replied, flicking the file open and discreetly angling it away from anyone else. "Four or five of the models you found are prototypes."

"So they would have had to come from the developer," Gabriella answered, flipping the folder to face her. "Can we trace them?"

"Maybe," Antonia told her. "That's what the FBI is working on now. The problem is that most labs keep their development prototypes and blueprints to themselves. A lot of research is never made public until much later. It may take them awhile to pinpoint a specific lab, but I am looking."

"You mean you are hacking weapons engineering firms' internal mainframes for confirmation that they own some of these," Gabriella suggested. Antonia didn't answer but her lips lifted slightly. "Any leads? Any probabilities?"

"I shouldn't even be telling you this," the other girl reminded her. "It's no longer an Albuquerque Police Department case. You're not part of the Bureau. You don't even have clearance."

"But you are telling me," Gabriella pointed out. "You're here, and you knew why I called. I'm not ambushing you."

"Leave it Gabi," Antonia warned. "I may not have all the answers you are looking for, but I do know where parts of this case have lead already and it's only been a couple of days. It's big. Really big. It is going to drag in some very high ranking people who may not be directly involved, but who are not going to look good when the FBI is done. Their preliminary inquiries have drawn the eye of the UN. There is international pressure for us to figure out who is producing the weapons."

"But what about who is dealing them? Pico and diSantiscani cannot possibly be responsible for forging connections all over the globe, infiltrating development labs, and stealing prototypes. I did my own 60-second search, Toni, and Pico and diSantiscani have been nowhere but the US, Canada and Italy for the duration of their lives. Someone is helping them." Gabriella pushed the pictures around the file, glancing over the list. "This pyramid was not built by those two. They are part of it."

"Why does this bother you so much?" Antonia asked, raising an eyebrow as she gathered up the photographs and closed the file. Leaning on her elbows, she looked at Gabriella, concerned. "At first I thought you were just following up because you knew how to. Its more, though, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," Gabriella retorted hotly, spinning her empty drink cup between her hands. She sighed and pushed it away. "This is why I turned down the Department of Defence offer to work with their development teams. My original research was rooted in the ability to help people. Obviously I was biased and had it angled at our soldiers and innocent civilians, but the point was to help balance the destruction." Gabriella twisted a ring on her finger and scratched the inside of her wrist lightly. "These guys, whoever they are, that put those weapons in that basement—They are the reason I became a cop and joined ETU. They go against everything I believe in and have worked for. And I hate it."

"They are working on it, Gabi. If it was an easy case, the APD would have had more evidence by now," Antonia insisted, understanding how Gabriella felt.

"They tried," Gabriella defended, her body tensing. She had no idea where the instant feeling of irritation came from. "They sent in undercover cops and I had to neutralize explosives that a rookie cop picked up. They threw all their resources at this and it just wasn't enough."

"Yeah, Gabi," Antonia said. "I get that."

"I'm sorry," Gabriella responded, sliding a hand through her curls to cup the back of her head. "It's been a really crazy week and this has been bothering me."

"I have to go, Gabs," Antonia told her, standing up and taking the file, "But I promise they are working on it and I am doing my best. I will keep you updated."

"That's all I ask," Gabriella replied. "Just keep me in the loop."

"I can't," Antonia responded gently, "But I will tell you how it ends."

Gabriella just nodded and watched as she left, weaving her way through cafe chairs and stools to the front door that tinkled with a small bell when it closed. Remaining in her seat, Gabriella mulled over what Antonia had told her. It wasn't much. A lot of it Gabriella had already suspected based on her experience spent discussing prototype development with other researchers and her lack of knowledge of some of the weapons confiscated in Pico's basement storage. Antonia had also said things without saying them. Someone had warned her against speaking to others. If it had been her decision to be discreet, she would have fed Gabriella an excuse and not shown up.

She was right though, Gabriella admitted. It wasn't their case anymore. The FBI would investigate. They would handle any arrests. They would shut down the leaks in the development labs. They would halt the traffic. It wouldn't stop the trade, but it would slow it down for a bit. Putting her hands in her pockets to find enough change to grab another coffee to take with her, Gabriella was reminded of the business card at home on her fridge. A tiny part of her wanted to admit that her desire for answers in the case had another root. Troy had a reason to see the case brought to a close. So did that rookie, Bennett. So did the detective at Station Twenty-eight, Brian Ford. Slipping her coat on and doing up all the buttons, Gabriella placed her to-go order at the counter.

Stepping out in the bright November sunshine, her hands wrapped around the heat of her fresh cafe latte, Gabriella decided to let it go for now. Antonia wasn't her only contact at the Bureau, just the best one. She would give it a few weeks and if she hadn't heard anything, she would make another round of phonecalls. Smiling, she walked past the display window for the furniture store a block between the coffee shop and her apartment. Pausing in front of the window for the second time in one day, Gabriella gave in to one of the impulses she had been fighting all day. She stepped off the sidewalk and into the bright, clean, sophisticated store to buy her dining room set. And maybe a few other things as well.

* * *

For Troy, the best thing about a day off after working six in a row, was that he got to sleep in. Which is what he did the day after being run over by Gabriella in the hallway at The Shield. He slept until noon and then made himself breakfast. Eggs, bacon, English muffins and a protein smoothie. He showered until the hot water ran out. For about twenty minutes, Troy sat in front of the television watching the football recaps from the day before, and then he got to work. Laundry came first, along with clean sheets on the bed. He scrubbed the bathroom and then replenished it with fresh towels from the dryer. After that came mowing the lawn, which in retrospect ruined the point of taking a shower. Folding and putting away the laundry, Troy grabbed fresh jeans and a dark green button up from the closet and took another shower.

By the time he knocked on his parents' door for dinner, he had completed a grocery run and filled his truck with gas. He had also had the chance to stop at the hardware store and pick up a few things his dad had asked him to grab so they could change the oil in Jack's pick-up truck. Troy didn't wait for an answer, but used his key to enter the house through the kitchen door. The smell of roasting chicken and potatoes hit his nose and he grinned, eyeing the pie on the stove top. Toeing off his shoes, Troy set the bag of mechanics gear on the kitchen table and approached the stove.

"Don't think of touching the pie, Troy Bolton," Lucille called from the next room. "There are cookies in the tin on the table."

Turning around, Troy located the blue and green tin and lifted the lid. Gingerbread cookies, sprinkled with granulated sugar were piled into the can. Selecting two, Troy took a bite and then went into the dining room. His mother was setting the table with water goblets. Placemats and cutlery were already laid out. Troy popped the remaining bit of his first cookie in his mouth and helped her as she tried to get the crystal salt and pepper shakers down from a higher shelf in the china cabinet. Troy handed them over and then looked at the table. It was set for four.

"Who is the fourth person?" he asked, biting into his second cookie. There was something different about them. He looked at it, thinking while his mother answered.

"Mrs. Bankson," Lucille told him, leading the way back to the kitchen. "She finally managed to sell that big house of hers and is moving back to West Key to be nearer to her sister. She is leaving next week and is going to go over some things with your dad so he can help out the new owner. They're not taking the house for another two weeks." Lucille checked on the chicken, sliding it back in the oven without the cover. "Something about a lease or a day off or movers. I don't know."

"You would think she'd leave that stuff with the Danforths," Troy said, finishing his cookie and reaching for another. "What is in these?"

"Pumpkin spice," Lucille told him, pulling out pots for peas and carrots. "Mary brought them over yesterday. She and Charlie are heading out to California to see Chad for a few weeks. That's why your father is going to take care of the Bankson house."

"Montez," Troy muttered. He hadn't kept his voice low enough though because Lucille froze for a moment at the stove before turning to look at him. "What? You can call it what you want but that house will always be the Montez house. No matter how much you like the Banksons."

"Troy—," she began. The doorbell interrupted her. "Could you grab that, please?"

He was intercepted in the hallway by Jack, who clapped him on the back before reaching for the door. Swinging it open, it revealed an older woman in her mid-sixties. Her greying brown hair was cut short and sophisticated blue glasses framed her eyes. She was dressed in slacks and a neat, grey and black sweater. She carried a small-sized tote bag and a cake carrier. Jack ushered her into the foyer and closed the door. Troy finally stepped in and offered to take her coat that was hanging over her arm.

"Oh, yes, dear. It's so nice to see you!" She patted his arm gently and then followed Jack to the kitchen while Troy hung her coat in the closet. When he finally caught up, they were all in the kitchen chatting.

"Yes, Dana, I was just telling Troy that the house sold," Lucy was saying as she lifted the cake carrier top to reveal a simple banana loaf. "You must be excited."

"It's more like a relief," Dana Bankson replied, sipping her fresh tea. Lucy offered some to Troy but he turned it down with a nod of his head. Jack had pulled out a kitchen chair and was stirring cream into his. "That house has so much space. When we bought it, we were thinking of our grandchildren, but now it's just too big. The balcony and the porch need some work. It definitely needs a new roof. I have to pay someone to mow that yard." She took another sip, setting her cup down and helping Lucy slice the banana loaf and set it aside for later. "And the new owner seems like a lovely girl."

"You've met the new owners then?" Jack asked, standing to help Lucy lift the roasting pan from the oven and place it on the stove top.

"Yes, yesterday morning. Her realtor called ahead and asked if they could do an earlier showing to fit her client's work schedule. I was there when they arrived. We chatted, and then I slipped out to give them some privacy." Dana stood and accepted a bowl of vegetables to carry to the dining room. Troy grabbed two. Jack took the chicken and Lucy carried the chilled bottle of wine. "I could tell she loved the house."

"So is it a family?" Lucy asked as they all helped themselves to food. Troy heaped potatoes onto his plate, followed by corn and carrots. "A couple of newlyweds? Did you mention the Danforths' pool and tree house?"

"Actually," Dana replied, "I believe she's single. She wasn't wearing any rings and she didn't mention anything. She's originally from the area; just moved back. Said she had been looking for a place for a few weeks and mine was perfect."

"It's an awfully big house for one person," Jack observed, buttering a roll. "She knows about the roof, I presume."

"I was surprised as well," Dana shrugged. "She knows about the roof. Said she would find someone to do it. Also mentioned the balcony and the back porch. I told her that fence between the house and the Danforths' was technically on her property but she seemed unconcerned. "

Troy was taken back to the days when he and Chad and Gabriella would run back and forth between the two houses. Maria would always have brownies and Mary Danforth would always have pumpkin ginger cookies. Lucy would usually be at the Danforth's baking or pouring over a knitting project. Jack would be in the garage with Charlie Danforth. Gabriella's dad would be with them or in the backyard garden. Years later, when they were in high school, Troy recalled nights spent in the treehouse or in the hammock.

"Maybe she likes big projects," Jack suggested. "She could see the house as a place with lots of space and possibilities. Maybe it's a hobby."

"Could be," Dana agreed. "Although she seems to have a very difficult work schedule."

"Did she say what she does?" Lucy asked. "It must pay well given the price you had it on the market for."

"She didn't say it out right," Dana answered, "But when I left them in the house, I walked by her convertible parked on the street, out front. She had a military styled backpack in the back seat and a set of dogtags attached to her key ring."

Troy started laughing. He couldn't help it. It was so ironic and predictable given how his week had been going. How had he not seen it before? How did his parents or the Danforths' not figure it out yet? They still spoke to her. He didn't know about the Danforths, but he knew his mother called her once a month. She had told him that. It was the only thing she ever told him about Gabriella. Rubbing his hands up and down his jaw joint, Troy continued to let go with silent ripples of laughter.

"Oh, God," he finally got out, tossing his head back with a pleading look. "It's priceless, really, when you think about it."

"Troy?" His mother asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Brie, Mom," he answered. "I'm talking about Brie."

"I don't understand," Lucy said. She furrowed her brow and looked at her husband.

"The house, Mom." Troy looked at his mother, and then at Jack. Briefly he looked at Dana but then he went back to his mother. Placing both hands on the table, he looked at his supper that he probably wouldn't finish. "Brie bought the house."

"Troy, how do you—?" Jack trailed off as he looked at Troy. Troy gave him a disbelieving look.

"Because she's back, Dad," Troy replied, "But then you two already knew that, didn't you? I have to ask though, how long did you think it would be before we ran into each other? She's a cop, Dad. I'm a cop. It tends to happen."

"So you've seen her." Lucille's voice trembled slightly and Troy noticed how she folded her napkin and refolded it again.

"Yeah, Mama," Troy told her. "I saw her. "The day before yesterday. She saved my rookie's ass." Troy raised an eyebrow as his father opened his mouth to lecture on the language. He closed it when he realized Troy had a point. "I also saw her yesterday, at work. Again. And last night, at the pub where the cops hang out. Seriously, a heads up would have been a good idea. And now?" He scoffed and flicked a thumb towards Dana. "She just rebought her old house."

"I take it you know the young lady," Dana inquired, trying to understand the situation but failing.

"Yes, Mrs. Bankson," Troy answered politely, "We know the young lady. She used to live in your house before she left for college."

"Troy, try to understand," Lucy offered, but Troy was already standing.

"No, Mom," Troy told her, "You should have told me. You should have at least told her. She was just as surprised to find me there. We don't follow each other's lives. No one keeps us up to date on each other. It was a shock and I had to deal with it in a room of our colleagues." He pushed his chair in and picked up his unfinished plate. "I have to head out. Tomorrow is my final day off and then I'm back in rotation. Thank you for dinner. Mrs. Bankson, I wish you the best."

"Troy!" his mother called, rushing after him. She watched as he cleaned his plate and placed it in the dishwasher. He picked up his keys and slipped on his sneakers. "Look, maybe we should have told you but I didn't want you to be upset."

"I will see you on Sunday for brunch, okay?" Troy replied, ignoring her explanation. "I start my shift at three and work until six on Monday morning. You can still do brunch, right?"

"Yes, of course," Lucy agreed, nodding.

"Great." His voice was quiet. "Tell Dad I will see him in a couple of days and we will do the oil change."

He left the house, followed the curling path to the sidewalk and then jumped in his truck. Starting the engine, he backed away from the curb. He picked a different route to go home by. After years of driving by her house, knowing she would never see him, Troy was back to avoiding her street. With Chad no longer living in the city, he had no reason to drive by Oak Street. He only did it out of habit. Habits could be broken.

* * *

Gabriella had figured out her training route after her first week back in Albuquerque. Four loops of the park was approximately 10km. She would do eight stair sets, running up and down the steps carved into the hill that sloped down to the fountain near the east gate of the park. Following that, she would set off, following the path east to north. She would finish up where she started, stretch it out, and then jog her way to the west side entrance.

Today, she decided to switch it up. Her nerves were wound too tight and she felt trapped even as she jogged from her apartment to the park. Jumping up and down on her toes as she studied the stairs, she turned around and started off in the other direction. The first chance she had to veer off the path she usually used, she took it and followed the crushed gravel track through the trees and along the river. She kept the pace light and easy for her first loop. Kicking it up a notch when she eased into her second, she unhooked her iPod from her hip and scrolled through the files. Selecting an option, she hooked it back in place and continued.

It was during her third loop of her new route that Gabriella felt him settling into a pace just a step behind her. She didn't slow or turn around, but she did feel her heartrate pick up. When they began their second loop together, she maintained her current pace but she turned off the iPod before she reached up and pulled the headphones from her ears and tucked them into her sportsbra. Troy considered it an acknowledgement of his presence. He took an extra step and kept pace directly beside her. Neither said a word.

Gabriella paused for a water break in front of a large sign at the fork in the path, showing a map of the park and where the trails led. Following options with her eyes, she shifted her gaze to the left without turning her head. He was watching her. Tilting her head back, she drained her water bottle and shoved the empty back in her holder at the small of her back. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she bounced on her toes to keep her muscles from freezing.

"Any suggestions?" she asked quietly without taking her eyes off the map.

"Depends. How are you feeling?" He offered her a toothy grin. She met him with a raised eyebrow.

"I could always outrun you," she replied, gazing back to the map. "That hasn't changed."

"Good to know," he acknowledged with a nod, following her gaze to the map. "See us? From here to the north entrance is exactly 400m." He offered her a smirk. "Think you can handle it?"

She was already running. He gave her a moment, watching her braid swish back and forth and the neon pink of her sneakers' soles flashing as her feet pounded the ground. Then he took off after her. Gabriella felt him when he got closer. Not close enough, but close enough she could hear his heavy breathing and the sound of gravel crunching beneath his feet. Sucking in a breath as the river curved away from the park and the trail merged with the main path, she dodged a group of runners and a solo cyclist and made the final dash to the north entrance gate.

She was bent over her feet, hands on her knees, when Troy careened to a stop just ahead of her. She straightened, flipping her braid over her shoulder and looked at his back. He took his time, she knew he was doing it on purpose, as he reached for his toes and then did a few side stretches. She copied him, barely realizing the fact, as she waited for him to turn around. When he did, she schooled her features to be blank.

"I'd hate to be the perp you chase down with that run," he told her, shaking sweat from his eyes and his voice catching. He sucked in a breath.

"I usually don't have to chase them down," Gabriella retorted, "The gun tends to scare them into surrendering."

"That's right," Troy said, as if he just remembered what kind of gear she packed while on duty. "The Remy is the preferred favourite amongst snipers." He paused. "I believe a while back you mentioned something about boys and their need for big guns—"

"You and your need for a big gun," Gabriella corrected with a slight bite to her tone. Troy grinned at her.

"And look how that turned out for you?" He leaned against a lamppost, his arms crossed and his shoulders loose. "Funny how things get turned around on you."

"Did you follow me for six kilometers just so we could discuss my job?" Gabriella asked scathingly.

"No," Troy admitted grudgingly. "I didn't."

"So why did you?" Gabriella felt her heart pound and she thought about the new number programmed in her phone.

"I thought—," he watched her control over her emotions slip. He decided not to mention how he had wanted her to call. "Okay, forget it, Brie. Congrats on the house. I'll see you around." He turned to leave, walking a few steps to the gate when her voice rang out.

"Troy! Wait!" He turned his head, looking over his shoulder. "What was I supposed to say? If I had called?"

"I don't know, Brie," he admitted. "I really don't." He sighed. "Look, I don't know what you want or how you feel. It's been a really long time and I'm not even sure what I want right now, but Mom is having brunch tomorrow around noon. If you want to see them, feel free to come. I work at three. You should be able to visit with them."

"I don't know," she responded, gnawing her lip.

"Look, Dad is supposed to talk to you about house stuff anyway. Just come by," Troy urged.

"Maybe." She studied her shoelaces as he turned and walked away.

She had more to say but it stuck in her throat as he reached the gate and pushed it open, turning east up the sidewalk. Spinning around, Gabriella ran back to east gate entrance and completed eight sets of stair climbing near the fountain before she jogged her way back to her apartment.


	6. Define Trip

**The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us**

_Disclaimer: I do not own HSM. Or Flashpoint. Or Rookie Blue. _

**Chapter Six- Define Trip**

_trip (verb): to cause someone to stumble or fall._

* * *

Troy's first shift back on rotation did not have a good start. The Captain had decided to mix things up and had reassigned Evan to Wes for the day. Troy got Kate Martin. As far as rookies went, Kate wasn't a danger to herself or her partner. She followed protocol and never complained. However, she also never shut up. Ruby had warned Troy that she was allergic to silence and sitting in the squad car with her for thirty minutes had Troy realizing that Ruby hadn't exaggerated at all. In the half hour since leaving the station, Troy had heard about her cat, her love of soccer, her unhealthy loyalty to the Houston Astros and her roommate's obsessive compulsive disorder that had her arranging cereal boxes in alphabetical order. His attempt at a five minute break had backfired when he ran into Rachel McKessie inside the coffee shop. Instead of nonstop chatter, he was treated to the silent treatment as the eldest McKessie sibling pretended he wasn't there.

Carrying the two cups of coffee back to the car, he found Kate on the sidewalk lecturing a teenage boy about wearing a helmet while skateboarding. The youth looked bored out of his mind as Kate animatedly explained multiple worst case scenarios that all involved his brain rattling inside his skull. Setting the coffees in the car, Troy pulled his sunglasses into place and leaned against the door, calling to his rookie.

"Martin? You planning to join me?" he growled.

That was how his day continued. They pulled over a minivan for passing a stopped school bus. They busted a group of high schoolers for skipping class. One of them had marijuana in his pocket so Troy arrested him and tossed him in the back seat of the car. The rest of them ran. Kate arrested an old guy for public intoxication while Troy was inside another coffee shop grabbing sandwiches for dinner. Emerging ten minutes later, he found her all proud of herself leaning against the car. Sighing, he handed her the food and got back in the car. Halfway to the station the old guy puked in the backseat. Troy spent the remainder of his shift on desk duty while Kate cleaned out the back of the car. When he got off at ten that night, he was more than willing to join Brian at the bar for a drink.

"I thought you've been off," Brian joked, sliding onto a stool beside Troy. "You look a little worn." He signalled for the bartender. "Heard you got a new rookie."

"Dan decided to move them around. Gave a speech about learning different styles." Troy shrugged and took a gulp of beer. "I told him to give her back to Watkins. I don't know how anyone else can find her endearing enough to not toss out of the car on the freeway. I know more about Martin's life than I do about yours." Brian laughed. "Go ahead and laugh, Mr. Detective. Wait until they get the chance to shadow you for the day. She's just the kind to be keen about detective work. Today I learned all about how she had a Holly Hobby notebook and used to pretend to be Harriet the Spy."

"So she would do terrible undercover?" Brian asked, wiping at the condensation on the glass.

"Depends," Troy admitted grudgingly. "If you could get her to lie while not shutting up, then they'd probably be convinced. Honestly, though? I think she's just too new. Bright eyed, idealistic, out for justice. She's not ready to make decisions about bending the rules and getting dirty to do what's needed." He paused. "Are you looking?"

"Are you interested?" Brian countered, eyes serious and mouth pressed in a firm line.

"I'm always interested," Troy grinned, cocky and arrogant. It's what made him good undercover. It was natural and he had to remember to turn it off rather than on. "You got something in the works?"

"Not for you, but I'll keep my ears open for anything." Brian took a drink of his beer. "Captain wants us to run a sweep next weekend. Usually we use the rookies but we don't have that many and Martin is our only female."

"What about Ruby? Or Burns? That transfer from Station Eighteen that's always on desk duty?" Troy tried to form a list of possibilities based on the officers who wouldn't be easily recognized as cops by their targets.

The station usually ran a sweep once or twice a year, along with the other stations in the city. The idea was to pick an area of their precinct that was frequented by prostitutes and Johns and infiltrate it with undercover cops posing in those roles. As a rookie, Troy had been assigned to the role as a male prostitute. His training officer had laughed but Troy shocked everyone when he owned the role. He attributed it to all the times he had half listened to Sharpay Evans' lectures at lunch hour or helping Gabriella rehearse for her role as Belle during their senior year. He tensed when he saw Brian glance at him thoughtfully.

"Ruby is off next weekend for the twins' birthday party," Brian answered after considering Troy's suggestions. "Charlie could work, especially now that she dyed her hair that blinding shade of blonde." Brian accepted the second beer that Eli put in front of him.

"I don't think that was on purpose," Troy smirked. "She was threatening to arrest her colorist."

"Either way," Brian shrugged, "And the transfer is Ava Ferenzi and she's pregnant." He gave Troy an odd look. "How could you not notice that?"

"She's always on the day shift," Troy pointed out, "And she wasn't there today. I only met her once. She can't be that far along. I guess she's out as a UC though."

"Yeah," Brian replied with an eyeroll. "Which leaves me with Charlie Burns and Martin. Both are blonde and the rook will probably blow the whole thing in five minutes."

"I am assuming you already picked the guys?" Troy asked, turning around to eye up the rookies playing pool in the corner. "Bennett could probably handle male prostitute. He's a charmer. He knows how to turn it on."

"Will he get edgy if a guy propositions him?" Brian asked, turning to watch the group as Troy was doing.

"Maybe for the first one," Troy answered, "But all he has to do is see the money and then we get them. He likes a challenge and he keeps asking me about undercover."

"What about Callum LaPierre? Good looking guy; looks older than he is," Brian watched the third rookie in the group take his shot with precision. "Think he could pull it off as a John?"

"Definitely. Put him in a button down, briefcase on the front seat? Young guy with too much money looking to score for the night." Troy motioned to Eli for another round.

"That's what I was thinking. I'm putting you in the surveillance van. I already ran it by Dan." Brian looked to see Troy nodding. He knew it wouldn't be a problem. "Great. Hopefully it goes better than last year." He spoke of the previous year when a rookie had ignored protocol and gotten in the car with a john only for him to pull into an alley around the corner and pull a knife on her. She'd been lucky that backup had planned for any scenario. "Be ready though in case you have to salvage it."

"I think I gave my leather pants away," Troy told him, his face serious. Brian laughed. "Do you still have those white jeans from when you were a lowly beat cop doing the dirty work?"

"I still do the dirty work," Brian told him, laughing. "Speaking of which, I need you to run surveillance for me tomorrow night. Dan will give you the details tomorrow. Take Bennett."

"Surveillance?" Troy asked, quirking an eyebrow and grimacing. "What happened to you doing the dirty work?"

"Funny," Brian smirked. "We got a lead on a deal going down between the Dragons and the Romas. My source says it could be as big as fifty kilos of heroine. The only problem is we don't know what time the whole thing is going to happen."

"So you want me and Evan to camp out in front of a sketchy building all night waiting for some gangbangers to show up with their dope? Nice. I'm really feeling the love from the Station lately," Troy scoffed.

"You need to cheer up," Brian decided, sliding his empty beer glass across the bar to Eli and signalling for a third. "It will be just the adrenaline rush you need. As long as you continue to be single, I need to make sure there is some excitement in your life."

"I think I'm good," Troy told him, pushing away his glass and addressing the bartender. "Eli, my man, how much do I owe you?"

"You're leaving?" Brian asked, surprised. "It's not even midnight and you don't work in the morning. You needing beauty sleep for some reason?"

"Nah," Troy grinned, slapping down his money and sliding his jacket on. "I got brunch with my parents before shift tomorrow."

"I love brunch with your parents!" Brian proclaimed. "I am all in. Tell Lucy I want maple bacon."

"No can do, bro," Troy told him, thinking of who else could be there. "Not this time."

"Yeah, yeah," Brian grumbled, ordering another beer with a raised finger. "This is why you get stuck on surveillance."

Troy laughed as he headed for the door, swinging his keys around his pointer finger. Brian had reminded him about Gabriella, and Troy's mood instantly picked up. There was something that he had felt yesterday that he hadn't felt in awhile. Their exchange of barbs in the park had made him grin for the rest of the day. She had proved that under all the changes and all of the layers he didn't recognize, some things were still the same. He could still make her cheeks flush. Pausing with one hand on the door, he turned back around and called across the bar.

"Hey, Ford!" Troy yelled, causing Brian to look across the increasingly crowded bar. "You still shooting hoops in the Department league?"

"Yeah? You finally interested in putting your money where your mouth is?" Brian called back.

"When?" Troy felt something slip and give way. He felt his muscles tense and adrenaline rise. It had been awhile since it had been more than just he and his dad playing a slowed down version of one on one.

"We play pick-up every second morning at the court a block from my apartment. Whoever can, will show up to practice. If you can get next Thursday night off, we have a game against the team from the Headquarters building." Wes answered for Brian, from his place at a table closer to the door.

"Count me in," Troy told them, pushing the door open and heading out into the crisp autumn air.

* * *

Gabriella fiddled with her rearview mirror after parking down the street from the Bolton's house. Ahead of her, tucked in snug against the curb, was Troy's humongous truck. It was a silver monster, chrome gleaming everywhere and its wheels raising it three feet off the ground. She would need a step stool to climb into it, she thought. It could have belonged to anyone, except that the license plate hadn't changed owners, only vehicles. It spelled out HOOPS and Gabriella felt as though there was a knife in her gut. Finally swiping a coat of lipgloss over her lips, she flung the door open and climbed out of her convertible.

She had initially planned to ignore Troy's invitation. A part of her had been curious about why he had asked her to join his family for brunch on Sunday, but the rest of her felt nothing but a tangled web of nerves, anxious stress, and unresolved frustrations with how they had handled each other all those years ago. And yet, here she was and she had no idea why. It was true that she wanted to see Lucy and Jack Bolton, to talk to them face to face, to feel the warmth that can only come from people who have known you and are capable of sharing your desire for nostalgia. So she had silently accepted Troy's offer, if under her own terms.

Reaching in the back seat for the plate of brownies she had baked that morning, she caught the glare of the car clock on the dashboard from the corner of her eye. It was edging towards two in the afternoon. She hoped she had heard Troy right when he had mentioned his work schedule. She was also back on rotation for the week, although Unit Three had gotten handed the night shift for the next three days so she wasn't due at Headquarters until five that afternoon. Closing the door to her car, Gabriella tried to shake off her nerves as she turned up the Boltons' driveway.

She could hear voices, muffled through the front door, as she approached, her palms sweaty against the ceramic of the plate in her hands. Her breath caught as she heard the click of a deadbolt and saw how the doorknob turned but paused before opening. Every part of her screamed to run. To turn now. If this was a work scenario, she'd be yelling for her teammates to fall back or she would be looking for the telltale red dot of a sniper laser. Instead, she froze.

Her inability to shift from her place on the front step of the house meant that she didn't hit the doorbell to signal her arrival. It meant that she found herself straining to hear the words as the light and deep tones of Lucy and Troy rose and fell on the other side of the door. It was why Troy almost knocked her over as he opened the door and began to back up, still talking to his parents. It was the look of surprise on Lucy's face that made him turn around to see what had interrupted them.

"Gabriella?" Lucy asked, her face lighting with a smile. "This is fabulous! What a wonderful surprise!"

"I-uh," Gabriella swallowed and tried to smile. She was looking at Troy though, and he wasn't sharing his mother's delight. "Um, Troy mentioned you would be home today," she finally settled on an explanation.

"Troy did?" Lucy asked, bewildered. "Well, we just finished brunch, but you are always welcome. I can find you some leftovers and we have tea and coffee on the stove." She paused and looked at her son. "Troy, are you coming back in for a moment?"

"I can't, Mom," Troy told her, his voice hard as he looked Gabriella square in the face, "I'm going to be late for work. Enjoy your visit though."

Lucy nodded and disappeared back into the house, calling for Jack as she went. Troy stayed on the step with Gabriella. She still held her plate of brownies and he was tossing his keys from hand to hand. When he looked up, Gabriella felt sick to her stomach. She had expected him to look angry or nonchalant. He didn't. For a brief moment he looked hurt. It was a flicker and then he looked away, towards his truck and the convertible at the curb.

"Perfect timing, Brie," he told her quietly.

"Troy, I didn't mean to—," Gabriella stopped when he held up a hand.

"Yes, you did." He swallowed. "You always mean what you say and you always do what you mean." He laughed darkly. "I shouldn't have asked you to come. You should visit with them, don't get me wrong, but I shouldn't have invited you to come today. It's awkward. You're not ready. I should have realized that. Maybe you will never be ready."

"Are you?" she asked, staring at her hands.

"No," Troy told her, shaking his head. "I thought I was, you know? I thought I could do this? But I can't. Thanks for that, I guess. For making me realize it."

"Troy, I—," Gabriella inhaled a ragged breath.

"It's fine, Brie," he told her. "Have a good time."

"Gabriella?" Lucy reappeared at the door. "I don't remember how you take your coffee, dear. Milk or cream?"

"Neither, Mom," Troy replied for her. "She takes it black."

"Okay. Troy, you're sure you can't stay?" she asked, looking back and forth between the two people on her doorstep. When he shook his head, she pursed her lips. "Very well. Tell Brian to come next week and we'll do this again. I found a new cornbread recipe. He's the only one who ever likes it."

"Sure, Mama," he told her. "I'll see you then."

Gabriella and Lucy watched him walk down the path. Gabriella waited until he had gotten in the truck before she turned away. She saw him drive away as she closed the front door and followed Lucy to the familiar kitchen. It had been painted since she'd been there last. A soft sand color that blended well with the dark wood of the cabinets and kitchen table and chairs. The window that looked onto the backyard seemed bigger and the side door that led to the yard was not quite closed. A ball cap with APD on it sat on the table and Gabriella had a sneaking suspicion that Troy had forgotten it. Lucy was pouring cream into a coffee cup and pointing to another.

"That's for you, dear. Jack is just on the phone. He should come down in a minute. Let me see if I can round up some breakfast for you." Lucy began opening the fridge and pulling out containers.

"If it's a problem," Gabriella began, "Don't worry about it. Coffee is fine."

"Oh, no," Lucy tutted. Gabriella noted that her hair was greyer than she had remembered and there were more lines around her eyes and on her hands. "I always make too much. Troy is always dragging someone with him so I like to be prepared."

"It's normal, then?" Gabriella asked, settling in a chair. "For him to invite people?"

"Oh, yes!" Lucy exclaimed, putting a plate together and setting it to warm in the microwave. "Last weekend it was the new officer that he was training, Bartlett? Barnett?"

"Bennett?" Gabriella supplied.

"Yes, that's it." Lucy gave her an odd look. "Evan Bennett. Lovely young man. Usually it's Brian though." Lucy pulled out the ketchup and syrup from the fridge. "He and Troy went through the academy together."

"The detective?" Gabriella said, surprised. Brian Ford had shown only excitement when they had uncovered the evidence in Javier Pico's basement last week. He had outlined Troy's stint undercover with very little detail. Gabriella had thought it was just to keep the facts simple and paint her a basic picture so as not to waste time. Now though, she wondered if it was something else. What else had happened in that warehouse that had Brian hiding it from those helping in the investigation? She looked over at Lucy. How much did his parents know?

"Yes," Lucy answered slowly. Gabriella noticed she had begun to think through her answers, weighing them against Gabriella's questions. "He wanted Troy to write the test with him last year, but Troy decided he liked walking the beat. He's a training officer," Lucy informed her, although Gabriella had figured that out already. "He talked to us about it, but in the end, I think he likes the diversity of being on the streets."

Gabriella merely nodded, sipping her coffee as a reason to not answer. Inside, her head was spinning. In five minutes she had learned more about Troy than she had heard in a decade. It made her realize how much Lucy had filtered from her conversations each time they caught up on the phone. Suddenly it mattered how much she didn't know. She had a hundred questions and no way to ask them. She was about to try a different angle when Lucy changed the topic to the house.

Gabriella let her, and the remainder of the afternoon went by in a quiet discussion with her and Jack about the house's previous owners and the work that was required. When she saw that it was passing four o'clock, Gabriella set her empty coffee cup and plate in the sink and excused herself for work. Jack walked her to the door, grabbing her coat from the hook while she put on her boots. After winding her scarf into place, Gabriella accepted her coat and slipped it on, doing up the buttons with a mastered speed.

"Maybe we'll see you next weekend?" Jack suggested, his face open and showing a level of understanding that Lucy's nervous chatter had left out. "We miss having you around."

"I haven't looked that far ahead in the schedule to notice," Gabriella told him quietly, "But maybe."

"He's not the same, Gabriella," Jack told her. "Neither are you."

"That doesn't mean it would be different this time around." Gabriella shifted, her voice soft.

"It doesn't have to be the same, or different," Jack told her. "You've both lost people. You've both seen things you can't forget. You don't need to be alone in this." When she looked up at him, uncertain, he clarified, "I know my son, Gabriella. He doesn't have to tell me every detail of his job for me to see it on his face or hear it in his voice. You're the same."

"Did he—," Gabriella paused and then tried again. "I worked with his station last week. People said things, not knowing who I was. Not realizing that he wouldn't want me to know." When Jack didn't brush her off, she finally asked. "Is he okay? After the undercover job?"

"Which one?" Jack asked, voice flat. Gabriella wasn't surprised that he was against Troy's choices. She was surprised at the question.

"What do you mean?" Her voice trembled and she already knew the answer. She just didn't like the fact that she hadn't thought of it before. The diSantiscani job would not have been for a rookie.

"Which undercover job, Gabriella? There's been more than one." Jack's eyes darkened and his throat wobbled as he swallowed.

"Why?" she asked, although it wasn't meant to be answered. It wasn't even meant for Jack to hear.

"I don't know," Jack told her, shaking his head. "He's never said. He doesn't even tell us when he's going. He writes a letter and has Brian deliver it. To be honest, it's been a year since the last one. I keep waiting for it to happen again."

"I didn't—," Gabriella closed her eyes. Something clicked and she looked at Jack. "Cam's accident." Jack nodded gravely. "That's why he wasn't there. Everyone said it was because of Chad; because they weren't speaking, but it wasn't. He was under?"

"Yeah. We don't know where or why or who he was working, but he had been gone about a month when that happened." _That_ was when Chad's older brother, Cam, who had been the one to pry Gabriella out of the tree house when her father died, had gotten into a car with his drunken best friend and slammed into the bridge leading out of town. His friend had died on impact. Cam had had multiple injuries. Chad had called her, frantic, in Santa Fe where she had just joined the SFPD. She had flown home that night and stayed with him for a week until it was clear that although he would require a lot of healing, Cam would pull through. Despite what people were saying, Gabriella had expected Troy to show up at any minute to see Chad. When he didn't, she had thought it unforgiveable. Now she knew. "We weren't allowed to say anything. When he came back five months later, he was so upset that I thought it would be enough to keep him from going again. It wasn't. He left about three months later for another op."

"I was so mad at him for not being there again," Gabriella whispered. "So, so mad."

"I know," Jack told her. "But maybe now it's time to decide what you can forgive him for, and what still has you hanging back."

Gabriella didn't answer. She left the house and walked to her car, passing the empty spot where Troy's truck had been. When she got in the drivers seat, and pulled away from the curb to head downtown to work, she didn't bother to turn the radio on. Her thoughts were already loud enough.

* * *

Troy slunk lower in his seat, keeping his eyes on the run down diner across the street. Neon lights advertised slot machines and ten dollar pitchers of beer. The windows were painted over in graffiti art to give it an added menacing touch. The special of the day was a hamburger and fries. Despite how unappealing the idea of ever eating in the place was, Troy's stomach growled and he began listing all the places he could go for breakfast when he got off shift in a few hours.

Beside him, a Knicks baseball hat pulled down over his dark hair, Evan was paging through a department issued report on prostitution in preparation for the sting operation planned for the following weekend. He had read it twice so far since they had parked the unmarked black SUV assigned to them by Brian that evening. Its plates were registered to an undercover identity frequently used by the gang unit at headquarters. A second group of police officers were parked in a dark blue pick-up truck in the back alley of the building next door to the diner. Charlie Burns and her rookie, Callum LaPierre, were to watch the back entrance. While Troy and Evan had the best view of movement in the upstairs apartment and the lighting the filtered through the painted windows, it was more likely that anyone entering or exiting for the deal would go through the back door.

They had been told to leave their uniforms in their lockers and to dress in plain clothes. Troy had been happy to strap the bullet proof vest over his white long sleeved thermal. His zipped up hoodie and jacket currently covered the telltale bulge of the vest and his gun holster clipped to the waist of his jeans next to his badge. He had pulled his hood up to hide his face from anyone walking by. Evan was dressed similar. Should anyone approach, Troy would tell them he was waiting for his girlfriend who worked at the club that he had parked in front of. Ruby was inside, an earbud in her ear as she sat at the bar. She would leave and join Troy if anyone became suspicious.

Fiddling with the radio, Troy found a broadcast of a late football game being played on the west coast. Settling back, his hands in his pockets, Troy leaned his head against the headrest and kept an eye on the building. Brian had been sure that his contact was telling the truth but as the clock neared two in the morning, Troy was starting to think that something happened to change the gang's plans. He could hear the conversations happening around him with his own earbud in his ear, but nothing caught his attention although Charlie and Brian were arguing over her participation in the prostitute sting. Sighing, he tried to adjust his position. His back was starting to cramp. Soon he may have to get out and have a walk around.

"Sir?" Evan asked, setting down his report. "What if its not going down here?"

"Then we wait and see what the word on the street is. We listen to see if the deal was a bust or if it happened somewhere else. Ford will talk to his guy and see what happened. Maybe we got made. Maybe they got paranoid. Maybe the shipment didn't come. A lot can happen to make this useless," Troy told him.

"And if they do show up?" Evan inquired.

"Then we call it in and surround the exits. You and I will take the front, Burns and LaPierre will take the back. Winters will come join us. We enter together, find the deal, and arrest them. Hopefully there will be a big pile of heroin on the table with the cash." Troy named off the steps. He had done this before. It was methodical and careful, no room for error. Facing the charges associated with the deal would be enough for anyone to risk shooting a cop to get away. "You just follow my lead."

"What about the ETU?" he looked over at Troy and then past him to the building. "I heard they're on back-up."

"If it turns into a gun fight, they will barge in and save the day," Troy assured him with sarcasm. "I, however, would like to go a few shifts without seeing them. So let's hope that the Dragons and the Romas decide to think before shooting."

Evan nodded and picked up his report again, only to put it down when he looked out the window. Troy had seen the flicker of movement too, and he sat up straighter in his seat to see. A group of six, two girls and four guys, were walking up the sidewalk towards the front entrance of the bar. As they passed under a street light, Troy grinned.

"Dragons," he told Evan, unzipping his jacket and hoodie. He tossed them in the backseat, out of the way.

"How do you know?" the rookie asked, taking off his hat and then pulling his own hoodie over his head.

"The tattoos on the guys' necks," Troy answered, reaching for his phone. "And that is Angel Wu in the red leather coat." He heard the click as Brian picked up. "Ford, its Bolton. I've got six Dragons out front. It looks like they are using the front entrance, but two just split off and went for the back." He paused. "I don't know. Maybe they're just casing the place out? If they go all the way around, Burns and LaPierre should see them."

He hung up and took the keys from the ignition. He tucked them in his pocket, watching as the group of four remaining Dragons entered the diner through the main entrance. In his ear, Charlie was telling Brian that the two other Dragons had entered through the back door to the diner. Thinking quickly, Troy glanced up to the apartment on the second floor and looked for any movement against the dim lighting that escaped the windows.

"Brian, this stinks of an ambush," Troy told him, speaking through the tiny mic on his collar. "It feels off. The Romas are going to question why only four people came to pick up that much dope." He was reminded of where he knew Angel Wu from. "What do you want us to do?"

"You said Wu is with them?" Ford replied, his voice tight. He was thinking the same as Troy. "Will she know you?"

"Probably," Troy replied. "My question is why is she here? She shouldn't be. This could get really dirty and yet she's here? We haven't seen the Roma leader yet and we knew where he was three hours ago. There's no way he's inside now."

"So you don't think it's a meeting of leaders?" Brian suggested.

"No way," Troy replied. "I bet they are all packing and they plan to leave with their cash and the dope. Give me the go ahead."

"Fine," Brian admitted. "Go, but go slowly. I'm calling it in to ETU. There are also two units on the next block. They will back you up if they get there before us."

"Alright, guys," Troy called to those on the call with him. "You heard him. Same plan, but watch for the two guys who went through the back."

Troy climbed out of the SUV and pulled out his gun. He made sure his shirt was tucked behind his badge, making it visible. He looked over his shoulder to Evan. A quick glance told him that the new cop was ready, his gun held properly and the vest in place. Nodding, he motioned towards the front door of the diner. They waited as Ruby hurried across the street; her boots soundless on the pavement, her gun drawn as well. She took the position opposite of Troy without a word, placing Evan at the back of the pack.

The only sound Troy could hear was the low echo of sound passing through their earbuds. He listened for movement on the other side of the door. Music met his ears, but no voices. There was most likely a back office where the Ramos crew did business. The diner may not be appealing to visitors, but it was still operational. They had been watching people come and go all night, mostly the type that Troy categorized as gamblers or low income alcoholics looking for a fix somewhere that wouldn't judge or kick them out. There were at least four people inside that may or may not be part of the crew. The bartender was definitely part of the Ramos gang. It was impossible for Troy to know who had been inside since before he started his shift that evening. Holding up his fingers, Troy signalled his estimated head count of people inside. Evan quietly sent a text to the pair of officers on the other side of the building.

"Burns, we move on my count. Go slow. One, two, three," Troy pushed his shoulder into the door and shoved it open, rolling with it so that he could sweep with the room with one glance, gun drawn. Behind him, Ruby did the same, the two scanning the room for any movement. Troy heard the sound of sirens screaming in the distance. They were still too far aware to worry the gang members if they heard. "See anything?" he asked Ruby.

"Nope," she replied, her voice tense. "Wait, there's light to my left. Probably a separate room for the slot machines."

"Take it," Troy told her. "Bennett, with me."

They cleared the room, the main dining area and bar, and moved into the kitchen behind the counter. It was empty, things cleaned up for the night. They left through the same entrance, and then met Charlie and Callum in the hall that led past the bathrooms and cleaning closet to the loading entrance at the back. They had cleared the bathrooms and the staircase that lead to a storage closet with a padlock on the outside. Troy motioned to the staircase climbing over their heads. Ruby joined them.

"There are three units outside, parked in the alleys. They took the gamblers outside. The bartender was in the room with them, refilling pitchers. He's in the backseat of Brian's sedan for questioning." Ruby used the time to put her hair into a ponytail, out of the way. "ETU got the call. They should be close."

"Let's go. Me, Ruby and Charlie will take the lead, Bennett and Callum, cover the stairs when we reach the top." Troy crouched, letting his gun swing up as he backed up, keeping his eyes searching the top of the landing. When he reached the bottom stair, he went slow, his gaze sweeping back and forth, the sound of voices growing louder.

"Mandarin," Ruby whispered, her voice quiet in his ear as she translated. "They are saying that they want to see every block of the dope." She paused. "Angel thinks it's been cut with something." The voices changed. "And that's Portuguese."

They cleared the stairs, leaving Callum and Evan behind, and moved towards the rooms that spread out along the hallway. Troy kept his eyes on the glow of light coming from the back room, but he was methodical. They cleared the bedroom, the kitchen and the bathroom. Quiet whispers would echo in his earbud as each person went through the motions. His muscles tense, his breathing light, Troy crept towards the living room that looked into the pawnshop next door. The voices were a mix of English and the gang's native language, growing louder as they argued amongst themselves and each other.

"It's not the agreed quality," a soft, voice said in perfect English with only a slight lilt. Angel Wu had been raised in the US, although her older brothers had been born in China. Only one of the four Wu brothers was still living, the others having gone the way of many gang leaders. Either taken out by rivals or police, the Wu name still held power in the streets. It helped that their father had made a ton of money the legal way before dying of a heart attack. "Hence, the deduction from the agreed price."

"You asked for heroin." Jose Mendez had not been in the US long when his cousin died from a gunshot wound to the head from a rival Colombian gang. Jose had taken over, but his English had much to be desired. "That is heroin."

"This is shit," someone else replied, but their accent was clearly Chinese.

"You want lots of drug? This is what you get." Jose's voice rose louder and there was an audible click. "Take it. Leave money."

"Idiot," Angel growled. "Call your boss. Tell him the deal is off." She mumbled something in Chinese and Troy caught the reflection in an adjacent window of the Chinese shifting and drawing weapons.

Out of the corner of his eye, Troy caught the sight of the two missing Dragon members perched on the balcony. They had been hidden so far, but as Troy watched, they began easing the door to the balcony open, attempting to come at the Ramos crew from behind. The Dragons did nothing to draw attention to them, but something made one of the Ramos gang turn around at the right second and fire without warning. The Dragon member dropped, the thud of his body causing a ripple effect through the room.

"Now!" yelled Troy, standing to fill the doorway, Charlie behind him as they both entered the room with guns pointed at each leader. Looking at the Dragon leader, Troy saw the gun in her hands. "Angel, put it down!"

"Or what, Xander? You'll shoot me?" she scoffed. Troy felt sick at the name she used. He had warned Brian that she would remember. "Too bad about Micah. I guess the Boss had it wrong that night."

It wasn't her that shot though, it was the Ramos member running their side of the deal. He missed Charlie and the bullet buried itself in the wood of the door frame. Chaos broke out. The room was large but crowded. People dove for cover, Angel ducking behind the door to the balcony. The glass in it shattered, but the impact was too high to injure her. Troy and Charlie moved back to cover either side of the door, silently signalling the other.

"We need backup!" Troy yelled into his mic, while Ruby tried the walkie-talkie she had grabbed from the truck. He had every intention of yelling it again but someone chose that moment to flee the room, shooting as they ran. They had just cleared the door when Ruby and Charlie tackled him to the floor, wrestling the gun away and slapping on cuffs. Troy made sure they had him secure before turning back to the room.

Two bodies were on the ground. He could see that. He saw someone else crouched behind a couch, nursing a shoulder. Switching to the other side of the door so he could see, Troy peered around the edge. Another two people were shooting from behind a sofaback table, the glass in it lying on the ground in shiny pebbles. It was the movement on the balcony that caught Troy's eye. There was a flash of red and then another flash of metallic zippers and studs of a jacket and then they were gone, fleeing over the divider and into the building next door. Troy made a decision.

"Angel's running!" he yelled, ducking his head and entering the room. He only counted one bullet that whizzed by before he was on the balcony and jumping the divider as well. He climbed through the broken window and scanned the room. The sound of footsteps on stairs told him the room was empty and they were already way ahead of him. "Someone else is with her! I repeat, at least two suspects fleeing on foot, inside the next building!"

"Troy!" Ford's voice was in his ear. "Bolton! Where are you?!"

"On the street!" Troy called back, nearly taking out a police officer that had been assigned to man the alley way that had just been used as a getaway route. He was too busy calling in the description of the two people running down the alley to actually chase them. Troy would chew him out later. His breath was even and his steps were bringing him closer. Rounding the corner, Troy sped up and caught up with them as they tried to climb a fence. Troy recognized where they were. On the other side was a parking lot at the back of a Chinese restaurant owned by Angel's second in command, Tang Jung Lee. Troy caught Angel by the back of her jacket, flinging her to the pavement. He pressed the muzzle of his weapon into the side of her minion. He heard footsteps.

"Get down, now," Troy growled, one hand on the guy's shoulder as he climbed down, hands over his head when he could stand. Relieving him of his weapon, Troy shoved him towards Angel who was smart enough to notice the line of officers approaching from the alleyway. "On your knees," he told them.

It didn't happen that fast, but Troy hadn't been expecting it. He should have. Two suspects, one cop. It was bound to happen, as he always warned Evan when discussing these types of situations. Angel had too much at stake to go quietly and her companion would be a dead man if he just gave up and surrendered. His foot came up, taking Troy out at the knee as he wrenched one hand free and slammed it into Troy's jaw. He grunted but didn't fall until the sound of bullets caused the Dragon to fall and his body pulled Troy to the ground where his head hit the ground.

Dazed and stunned, Troy saw the world spin as the body of the Dragon member was rolled away and someone appeared in his vision. Names and faces didn't make sense as Troy closed his eyes for a minute. In his ear he could hear the calls being relayed all around him. Brian was coordinating rides for those arrested. Ruby was directing the forensics guys upstairs. Evan was arguing with Callum over something. Charlie was yelling for backup to deal with the growing spectators. Above it all, he heard a vaguely familiar voice calling for paramedics.

"Officer down! I repeat, officer down!" Even when Troy ripped the earbud from his ear, Gabriella's voice was still too loud.

"Where is he?" Troy growled, attempting to stand and wincing with the movement. He held his fingers to his head and they came away bloody. "Damn it."

"Troy, sit down," Gabriella ordered, still carrying on a conversation with her headset. "I want you to look at me and tell me how many fingers I am holding up."

"The middle one?" he guessed, smirking oddly. Groaning at the action, he shook his head leaned on her slightly. His knee felt wobbly and his side ached. Pressing a hand over his vest covered ribs, he took a shallow breath. "I'm good. Damn, you need to teach your boys to aim better."

"What?" Gabriella shifted beneath him and Troy pulled away as she let her weapon dangle from the shoulder strap and her hands went to his vest, running their way over the heavy fabric until she hit the roughness of the object that didn't belong. "Gavin hit your vest," she hissed. "Shit, let me look."

"Brie, leave it. Its evidence," Troy told her. Her hands were pulling at the Velcro on the sides, trying to gain access for a better inspection. "I said to leave it."

"Troy, you got shot," she reminded him.

"And I hit my head. It happens." He sunk to the pavement, suddenly tired. He looked up at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. The rest of the ETU team was returning with Troy's assailant but not Angel. "Where is she?" he asked. All he got was a shake of their heads. "You lost her? How? She doesn't run that fast!"

"They had help," Gabriella's sergeant, Sam, told him. "Cars and drivers waiting around the corner. This idiot fell. They apparently don't honor the concept of no man left behind."

"That's fantastic," Troy told them, waving off a paramedic who was trying to make him sit back down. "We have audio and visual proof of Angel Wu conducting drug deals, attempting homicide at the very least, and assaulting a police officer and you let her drive off into the sunset?"

"Jenna got a tracker on the vehicle. We'll find them," Sam told him, his voice even and reassuring. Troy glared at him. "Montez, you ready? We need to roll before they ditch the vehicle. They will need your statement about the shooting once we're done. Gavin's too since you both fired." Troy jerked his head up, staring at Gabriella who had turned her face away. She had been sure that Gavin had been the one to miss the target. If she had fired her gun, that meant she had been the one to take down Angel's guy.

"Yeah, sure." Gavin adjusted his weapon. "Montez, you with me? Jenna will go with Sarge so they can track the signal."

"Yeah, I'm coming." Gabriella stood, helping Troy to his feet while the paramedic held his other arm. When Troy felt steady enough, he shook her off and waved her away, still trying to process everything.

"Go, Brie, find her. If you don't soon, we won't." He saw her hesitate and rolled his eyes. "I am fine."

"No," she told him. "You're not. Go to the hospital, Troy. Get checked out. Make sure you didn't lose any more brain cells."

"Thanks," he answered darkly. "Any other words of encouragement you would like to share?"

"Go, Troy," she ordered, "Or I will call your mother myself."

Troy bit his tongue as she walked away, gun slapping against her back as she accepted a bottle of water from Gavin that he had swiped from another officer. His head pounding and his side on fire, Troy brushed off the paramedic and climbed into the back of the ambulance himself. He barely registered when Charlie found him and told him she would meet him at the hospital with a cruiser and drive him home afterwards. He just nodded and accepted the icepack the medic offered him, holding it to his jaw while the medic tried to clean the blood off his face.

* * *

Gabriella was quiet as Gavin steered their SUV along the roads, following the headlights of the ETU vehicle in front of them. Her fingers checked and rechecked the magazine in her weapon. She adjusted the strap of her helmet. She made sure she had her night vision goggles in her pack just in case. She looked over at Gavin, and then back again. The night was dark and the houses around them darker. Up ahead, Jenna was tracking the GPS signal from the vehicle Angel Wu had climbed into less than twenty minutes ago. She couldn't have gone far.

"That's the guy," Gavin said, quietly. Gabriella paused. She didn't like the idea of her history being aired to everyone over their headsets. "The one who wouldn't leave the scene last week."

"Officer Bolton," Gabriella clarified. She swallowed.

"You called him Troy," Gavin reminded her. Gabriella looked to see if she had water left.

"That's his name." She tilted her head back, letting the cool liquid sooth her suddenly dry mouth and throat.

"Gabriella," Gavin warned, looking over at her. Gabriella liked Gavin. He was strong and decisive. He worked hard and he was always honest with his teammates. He had been the first member of Unit Three that Gabriella had genuinely trusted and felt comfortable with. Right now, though, he was pushing. Gabriella never liked being pushed.

"No, Gavin," she told him, twisting in her seat. "You don't get to do this. None of you do," she said, knowing they were listening. "Gavin shot him tonight." She nearly smirked when she saw his look of surprise. "Yeah. Nailed him in the vest. I was checking on him."

"That's why we have medics," Gavin retorted, his voice stinging. His pride in his ability to hit a target was his one weakness—He was the best. Usually. In actuality, Gabriella would have been more likely to hit Troy than Gavin, but she had seen the momentary delay in the Dragon members fall to the pavement and she knew she didn't fire first.

"The medics wouldn't be enough to convince him to see a doctor," she said. She caught a partial conversation between Sam and Jenna. She sighed, looking away from Gavin. "Look, he did an undercover stint that involved our current suspect. He wants her in jail. I don't want him chasing after us as we try to bring her in. Do you?"

"No," Gavin replied, making a sharp turn to keep the others in sight.

"Exactly. Now he will spend a few hours in the emergency room and hopefully by the time he comes out, we will have tracked this chick." Gabriella rolled her shoulders and resettled her helmet as the other two ETU vehicles came to a stop. "Let's get this over with."

Four and a half hours later, sporting a scrape to her cheek and matching scrapes on both hands, Angel Wu was marched into a holding cell at Station Twenty-Eight to join those arrested the previous night at the diner. Outside, the sun was turning from pink to grey. Gabriella's shift should have ended an hour ago, but she had one more stop to make before driving the SUV back to headquarters and gathering her things. Telling Jenna to find them some coffee at the station kitchen, Gabriella found Officer Bennett pouring over his report on the takedown at a desk on the main floor. A quick conversation and he pointed her in the right direction.

She knocked softly on the locker room door before entering, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest. Troy had his back to her, pulling a black t-shirt over his head. Her eyes followed the contours of his shoulders, down his back, settling on his hips that disappeared as he pulled on the hem of the shirt, reaching into his locker for his wallet and his cell phone. Gabriella watched as he checked it, his thumb dancing over the screen before shoving it in his back pocket. She cleared her throat, breaking the silence.

"So Evan mentioned you were in here," she said by way of explanation. He turned around and she winced at the bruise blossoming on his jaw. She stepped closer.

"You're on a first name basis with my rookie?" he asked, his tone rueful as he slipped his hands in his pockets.

"Troy, don't be like that," she chastised, moving to end of the bench. "I just wanted to check and see if you were okay."

"I'm fine. I told you that at the diner," he reminded her. He pulled out his jacket and slid his arms into it. "Nothing some sleep and an Advil won't fix."

"That looks nasty," she told him, indicating the line of stitches at his temple. "How're your ribs?"

"It missed my ribs," he told her, taking his keys from his locker and closing the door. "Hit my abdomen. Missed all things important."

"Concussion?" she asked. She wondered about the keys in his hand.

"Nope." He drew out the word, popping the added syllable to show how he felt about the entire situation and her mothering questions. Gabriella felt herself grow annoyed at his lack of appreciation.

"No time off then, I guess." She shifted and stood up straighter.

"No, so I really need to wrap this up," he told her. "I have to be back here in eight hours and that's usually how long I sleep for. I wouldn't want to be cranky on the job." He offered her a grin but she glared, knowing it was supposed to annoy her. It was working.

"You don't have to be rude." She turned to leave.

"Brie, I don't know what to be with you," he said, sighing and rubbing a hand over his face. "I tried to be professional, friendly, open. It got me nowhere. You purposely avoid me this morning but now you're here seeking me out to check on me? It's a little hard to follow."

"I was worried, okay?" she told him, angry. "It's not the same. You invited me to have brunch with your parents, Troy. Do you remember how those used to go before we started making out and having sex? I didn't really want to take a trip down memory lane where our parents would sit around the table playing peacekeepers just so they could eat a meal together."

"So what, Brie?" he countered. Gabriella looked at him and was stunned at what she saw. He was so different. The way he spoke, the way he moved, the way he thought before he spoke and considered her words. "Why are you here?"

"I still care, Troy. I don't want to. I look at you and I realize that things are different. They would never be the same as before. I don't know if that's good or bad or just an observation that really doesn't matter, but I do know this. I am mad at you. I shouldn't be. There are so many reasons why I should let it go or make the effort to move on and forget, but I can't. I see moments where we ruined things for other people. I remember when I needed you and you weren't there. I am mad, Troy." She took a breath. "But I still care. Your dad told me—"

"My dad?" Troy asked, his voice rising. "You talked to my dad about me? Nice, Brie, that's just great. What, you sat around and drank your coffee and tried to dissect the enigma of Troy Bolton?"

"Troy, stop it!" she yelled. "I asked about Cam, okay? It slipped and your dad told me why you weren't there. He told me that diSantiscani wasn't the first time you've gone under. I just wanted to know!"

"You don't have that right, Brie!" he yelled back, aware that everyone outside could probably hear them. "You haven't had that right for a very long time!"

"That was never what I wanted!" she screamed, her cheeks hot.

"Yes, it was! God, Brie, it had to be or you would have called. You did this!" Troy tossed his hands up and laughed darkly. "You broke us! You started an argument you refused to finish! You ended all communication! You changed your number and had Chad give me back all my stuff. I lost both of my best friends because of you! Because you didn't know how to sit down and discuss our problems like adults!"

"You were going to leave me!" her hand flew over her mouth and tears swam in her eyes. Then her eyes hardened and her hands swiped angrily under her lashes. "No, you're right. This is my fault. I shouldn't have asked your parents. I shouldn't have even gone. I'm sorry." She turned to leave, grabbing the handle and tugging. "I'm glad you're okay. I'm on nights again tonight. If we end up at the same call I will try to stay out of your way."

"Brie—," he tried, pleading as he stepped forward. "That wasn't what I meant."

"No, Troy," Gabriella told him, looking over her shoulder. "We're still alike in that regard. We always say what we mean and do what we say."

She left the locker room, keeping her head down as she found her way through the maze of the station and out into the back parking lot. She heard Jenna following her but she didn't look at her. Climbing in to the SUV, they left the lot and headed back to their own homebase in silence. Once or twice Gabriella felt Jenna glance over, but then her eyes would slide back to the road. Gabriella, in fact, did nothing but stare at the palms of her hands and absently run her right thumb over the tattoo on her left wrist.

* * *

_**A/N:** I haven't been adding these in to the updates because I haven't really felt it was necessary. However, I would like to thank unproper grammar for her encouragement and lovely words as she edits this beast, and also to those who have taken the time to review or pm me with your thoughts. The one thing I would like to address is your mixed feelings with how T&G are interacting. I'm glad you feel that way. I'm glad that you are analyzing what everything means and coming up with your own ideas. Hopefully this chapter and the next one help put you in their heads. ~Van_


	7. Define Edge

**The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us**

_Disclaimer: I do not own HSM. Or Flashpoint. Or Rookie Blue. _

**Chapter Seven- Define Edge**

_edge (noun):the outer limit of an object._

* * *

Troy entered Station Twenty-Eight looking as exhausted as he felt. He had left the station that morning after his yelling match with Gabriella and driven home, collapsing on his bed without taking his clothes off. He didn't sleep though. He was tired, weariness in his bones and his mind failing to follow a thought all the way through, but he couldn't sleep. Gabriella's words kept echoing in his mind. _You were going to leave me_. She had no idea. For hours Troy had laid there, staring at his ceiling. Finally, he had fallen asleep only for his dreams to be filled with diSantiscani's warehouse, except that this time the gun wasn't pointed at Micah, it was aimed at Gabriella who was yelling at him for abandoning her. Troy woke up and decided that being awake was better than that.

He tugged the knit hat off his head as he entered the locker room, tossing his bag onto the bench and throwing open his locker. Shrugging off his jacket he winced at the movement, although he didn't hesitate to pull his long-sleeved t-shirt over his head and hang it up inside. He looked up as someone else entered the room and saw Evan place his bag on the bench on the other side of the room. The rookie looked over and then back to his bag, not mentioning the dark blue bruising that spread across the upper quadrant of Troy's stomach. Troy pulled on a black undershirt and then his uniform shirt, buttoning it up the front before doing the sleeves.

"You're going to be in booking with Wes today," Troy said, breaking the silence. "I told the Captain that booking would be more educational for you than desk duty."

"That's fine," Evan replied.

He didn't turn around as Troy tucked his shirt into his pants and then sat down to lace up his boots. Troy's whole body ached but he knotted them and stood slowly. Running a hand through his hair, he made sure he had everything and closed his locker. He would get his duty belt from the gun lockers and head to parade. He had just pulled his hat into place when the door swung open and Callum entered the room, joking with Brian. Both of them froze when they saw Troy watching them. Brian recovered first.

"Good, you're here. Dan put you on desk duty but I can see if he can give you to me until my shift ends at five," Brian told him, pulling at his tie. Troy raised an eyebrow at him. Brian had probably left the station after Troy and judging by his touselled hair and crooked tie, he had been working a case for at least the past few hours. The chances of him leaving at five were slim and even if it happened, he would be back in with the first call of a new case.

"I'm good with desk for today," Troy told him, his expression grim.

"Why are you even here?" Brian asked. "You should have just taken the day off."

"I'm here because I am fine," Troy insisted. "People need to calm the fuck down."

"Sure," Brian replied, nodding his head slowly and looking over at Evan who just shrugged his shoulders. "You have a moment? I feel the need to practice my hand to hand defense techniques. I'm getting rusty."

"I don't recall being this annoying when you got shot," Troy retorted, glaring at Callum's ill contained grin. "You two are going to be late for parade." He looked between Callum and Evan. They didn't budge. "Go!" They hurried out of the room. Troy looked at Brian who lost the look of slight amusement and met Troy's glare. "What?" Troy barked.

"You didn't tell me she was back," Brian said, hands in his suit pants pockets.

"You met her," Troy reminded him. "Told me she was a hot little firecracker." His lips twitched as he sat on the bench and looked at his hands. "Told me she had saved our case against Pico and diSantiscani."

"And at no point did you tell me who she was," the detective pointed out.

Troy had never told him much about the girl whose picture, in a frame made of painted popsicle sticks, he had found while helping to unpack boxes when Troy bought his townhouse. Troy had shoved it back in the box and told him to leave it alone. He had, until a night a few weeks later when they were getting drunk at a bar and Troy had run into an old high school classmate who asked about Gabriella. Troy told him he never saw her and the classmate had looked surprised, excusing himself from their company. Brian had pieced things together since then. Lucy or Jack Bolton would say something. Troy's friend Zeke, who Brian had met once, had mentioned something that made Troy's face cloud over like a storm.

"I didn't want it to matter," Troy told him. "It shouldn't matter. She's good at what she does from what I've seen and she likes her job. We were trying to be professional."

"And last night?" Brian pointed out. He sighed when Troy didn't answer. "I didn't know who she was when I told her about your UC op. If I had, I would have kept some things out of the explanation."

"Last night wasn't about the op or the takedown." Troy sighed, standing stiffly. The conversation was over. "It was about something else."

"Something else?" Brian asked. "Troy, the entire precinct could hear you."

"I wasn't there," Troy told him, repeating Gabriella's words. "She lost the most important person in her life and I wasn't there. I would have been, but she doesn't know that." Troy opened his mouth to say more, but decided against it.

He and Gabriella had always kept to themselves when it came to their relationship. That hadn't changed when it ended, at least not for him. Even his parents knew only the major details. Chad had demanded answers, so had Taylor McKessie. Troy suspected Maria Montez had figured out pieces. Chad knew most of it, mostly because he knew them both. The deepest cracks though had remained private. He pushed past Brian, their shoulders bumping, and out of the locker room.

* * *

Gabriella was awakened by the ringing of her landline. Lifting her head from the pillows, she fumbled with the covers as she tried to untangle her hand before reaching for the cordless receiver on the edge of her nightstand. A quick glance at her alarm clock told her it was well past noon. Any normal person would be awake by now so she tried to quell the annoyance she felt at the caller. Sighing, she picked up and tried to sound friendly.

"Hello?" Gabriella stifled a yawn as she spoke.

"Gabi?" Will replied, "You said you were going in early for a pre-shift workout." He paused. "I just woke you up, didn't I?"

"Um, yeah," Gabriella told him, rubbing her eyes and trying to piece together her thoughts. She vaguely remembered talking to Will and Aaron about going in early to work out and use the gun range. That had been before she and Troy had their showdown in the locker room at his station though. Sighing, she collected her thoughts. "Sorry, I must have slept through the alarm." Her eyes searched her room for her cell phone.

"If you want to skip it, that's fine," he told her.

"No, no," she insisted, locating her phone and slipping out of bed. "I'm up. Give me a half hour and I will meet you outside of my building."

"No problem," he told her and hung up.

Thirty-five minutes later, Gabriella was sitting on the front steps of her building waiting for Will. The wind was cool and she tugged her wool sweater tighter around her middle, her hands under her armpits. Her gym bag sat in front of her, between her feet with their brown leather lace up boots. She looked up at the sound of a car, and she stood when she recognized it. Gabriella didn't move from her spot until the car stopped in front of her and Will reached across passenger seat to push open her door. She slid inside without a word, dropping her bag on the floor of the car and leaning her head against the headrest.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Will joked, pulling out onto the street towards headquarters. "Glad to see you put some effort into making yourself presentable for me." She felt his gaze sweep over her.

"Screw you," Gabriella told him, eyes closed and slouching in her seat. Aviator sunglasses hid a good portion of her features.

"Wow," Will whistled, "So under all that upbeat cheeriness and optimism you have, you can be kind of a grump." He chuckled when she didn't answer. "By the way, nice hat."

Gabriella cracked an eye to look at him, the grin on his face telling her that he had most likely heard about her trip to Station Twenty-Eight. Reaching up, she swiped at the bangs that fell into her eyes. Tucking them behind her ear, she tugged at the peak of the APD ball cap that she had tucked her hair up in. Glaring, she turned to look out the window. She listened to the drone of the radio until Will turned it down, causing her to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Because the silence wasn't deafening enough?" she asked sarcastically. When he didn't answer, Gabriella felt guilty for taking out her lack of sleep and tumbling thoughts on him. "I'm sorry."

"I thought you may want to talk," Will told her simply. "Jenna mentioned some things when you two got back to Headquarters last night."

"Of course she did," Gabriella scoffed. "I mean, I probably would too. It's pretty good gossip, full of drama and angry insults and I even stormed out at the end." When Will didn't say anything, she kept going. "What exactly did she tell you? That my ex-boyfriend and best friend, who I haven't seen in ten years, keeps turning up everywhere? That I was the one who left because I realized after everything we had been through, I still didn't trust him enough to stay? That I thought he would come when I needed him, despite everything?" Gabriella looked at Will. She hadn't realized that she had tears in her eyes. "I honestly thought he would come. He was supposed to find a way. He was supposed to prove everyone wrong."

"Where was he?" Will's question actually startled her. She had to think about the answer.

"Iraq," she whispered, "I think. I never actually came out and asked for him. They would just hint at it, apologetically, as though they needed to defend him."

"Jen didn't tell us any of that," Will explained. Gabriella wanted to laugh. "She just asked if we knew what the deal was with you and Officer Bolton. Apparently you two have quite the set of tempers."

"Only with each other," Gabriella told him. "It's always been that way."

"But you dated," Will pointed out.

"Yup," Gabriella agreed, "And during our first big fight as a couple, I kicked him in the balls with my heels in the middle of East High's cafeteria." She looked at Will. "It lasted a week. He tried to staple my hand to a desk, I threw a hole punch at his head. Hit him too. We nearly got suspended twice."

"And you ended it?" Will asked, looking at her with an odd look as she calmly told him her high school back story.

"Not then," Gabriella said. "We got back together at a party where he was really drunk and said everything a high school girl wants to hear. Everything I wanted to hear. We managed to go almost an entire year after that. We broke up at thanksgiving. I forced an argument and then left for school." She swallowed, every memory coming back to her. "I refused to answer his calls. I deleted all of his emails. If our friends said his name, I would change the topic or walk away. I convinced my mom to go to my aunt's for Christmas. Troy spent his summers running camps at NYU so I never saw him at home. At some point, he got into an argument with our best friend. Chad barely speaks to him now."

"Ten years is a long time, Gabi," Will answered. "And you're still mad at him?" He turned off the ignition and Gabriella realized they had reached work. She gripped the strap on her bag tighter.

"If I'm not mad at him," Gabriella finally answered, inhaling a deep breath and letting it out, "Then everything changes."

She got out of the car, slamming the door and hitching her bag on her shoulder. Quickly walking across the pavement to the double doors, Gabriella pushed them open and paused. Turning away from the elevator, she headed towards the stairs, taking them two at a time until she reached the ETU level. Flashing her ID at the scanner on the door, she went through and followed the hall to the female locker room. She heard Will behind her, calling her name but she ignored him. She needed to pull herself together.

* * *

A shadow swept over the front desk of Station Twenty-Eight, causing Troy to look up from where he was filing a report on a vandalized vehicle for the woman on the phone. With the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, Troy signalled to the Captain to hold on for a second. He typed out a few more things, repeated some information back to the caller to make sure he got it right, and then printed it out.

"Yes, ma'am, I am sending an officer over now. As long as nothing else needs his attention, he should be there sometime this afternoon. Thank you," Troy told her before hanging up. Glancing at Dan, he proceeded to file the claim in an ongoing investigation folder. "What's up?"

"How's the head?" Dan asked, taking in the black stitches and the dark purple bruise. "It's been awhile since you've taken a blow like that one."

"I'm fine," Troy told him. "Top notch."

"Is that why you're moving like an old man?" Wes asked, coming to stand beside Dan.

"Oh, look," Troy observed with sarcasm, "It's a party. Joy."

"Hey, now I came to be nice and give you some company, and that's how you react?" Wes shook his head, grinning as Troy reached for the ringing phone.

"Albuquerque Police Department Station Twenty-Eight, Officer Bolton speaking," Troy answered with practice. He ignored Wes and Dan as the person on the other end of the phone began yelling at him. "Sir? I am sorry, but your neighbor's messy lawn is a city concern, not the police. They can issue a fine, but you have to go through them." Troy paused as Wes started laughing. "I can give you their number, Sir. Sir?" Troy hung up the phone. "Well, he was pleasant. Now, Tobin, Captain, what can I do for you? I am clearly very busy."

"Yes, I see that," Dan said, "Like Tobin said, you're getting a partner."

"What? Who?" Troy saw the looks on their faces and recalled Dan's earlier question about his head. "No, no, no. What did she do?"

"She didn't really do anything wrong," Dan started, but Wes glared. "Okay, she didn't it on purpose. But she does need to learn not to fly off without someone with her, so this is her punishment."

"If you are going to stick me with Martin for the rest of the day, which I will remind you goes for another eight hours, I am going to need to know what she did." Troy glanced at the phone that was ringing again. Same number as before. He held up a finger and answered it. "Hello? Yes, sir, we spoke before. No sir, there is no rule against children laughing outside at night. There is a noise ban that begins at eleven, sir. It's ten. You will have to call back. Thank you."

"To answer your question, you have to promise not to get into a tizzy," Wes told him in a mothering tone.

"I do not get in tizzies," Troy answered. "Who was she even partnered with today?"

"Ruby," Wes told him, "But remember, it's not Ruby's fault. The rookie took off after the suspect and didn't radio it in. Or, actually, didn't turn her radio on. Anyway, she finally caught up to him and arrested him, dragged him back to the dance club they were searching, and paraded him in front of all his other arrested buddies."

"Ok-ay." Troy drew out the word, failing to follow until he heard a commotion behind him and turned to look into the open pit desk area of the station where a crowd had gathered around a newcomer dressed in beat off baggy jeans, a black t-shirt, and a chunky gold chain. His shaved head contrasted with his closely cropped beard and his teeth flashed as he smiled. Black tattoos were still visible against the darkness of his skin. Troy turned back, his eyes flashing. "You have got to be kidding me."

"She tackled him to ground, Bolton," Wes wheezed, trying to stifle his laughter. "She had no idea who he was. Ignored him when he told her he was working and undercover. It's priceless, really."

"Now," Dan said, "I am not one to condone your inability to get along with Luca, but I do appreciate the fact that at the moment, you are probably one of few people who will not spend the rest of shift hassling Kate Martin for blowing his op. So for the rest of the night, she's all yours. Be nice."

Troy stared at Dan's back as he walked away and then looked over at Wes. It was no secret that Troy and Luca Grey were not friends. Luca had been transferred into Twenty-Eight during the months of Troy's first undercover assignment. When he returned, they had a falling out over a witness. Luca had set her up as bait and Troy had ardently opposed the idea. He had been undercover, working with the same dealers that the girl had been running from; he knew they would kill her rather than to listen to any explanation she had. He was right. Luca had been wrong. Neither had forgotten the incident.

"So he's back then," Troy said, stating the obviously. Luca had disappeared a few months back. No one would confirm the rumors or Troy's suspicions, but it hadn't taken a genius to know he was on the job somewhere. "Suddenly my head hurts."

"As much as you hate the guy," Wes reminded him, "She still blew the entire op. Five months of trying to climb the ranks of gangbangers and she made the whole thing collapse."

"He shouldn't have run," Troy said. "You never run with rookies. They are trained to chase."

"That's what I said." Kate Martin appeared sullenly beside Troy, placing two coffees on the desk and sitting in a chair. "I brought coffee."

"You know what, Martin?" Troy said to her, picking up the one closest to him and inhaling the smell, "I think you and I are going to get along great today."

"Really? Evan said you're all moody and mopey. I said it was probably because you got shot in the guts but Evan said it's that whole drama infused, lovers spat that happened last night. Honestly though? I still think it's because you got shot. I'd be cranky too." Kate spun in her chair and then leaned over to answer the ringing phone. "Hello? No, I am not the man you spoke to earlier. No, he has not been fired. Sir, I am sort of new, but I think that between you telling me you are looking through your neighbor's window and can see his naked wife, and the fact that your neighbor's wife is naked in her own home, I am going to have to think that you're the one breaking the law."

"I take that back, Martin," Troy told her, grinning as she hung up the phone, "You and I are going to have a fantastic shift. Now, tell me step by step how you arrested Officer Grey. Did he fall? Trip? Maybe hit his head on something hard?"

It was all Kate needed. She launched into her tale, beginning with how Luca looked shifty inside the club and covering all the bits like how he almost lost his pants during their chase and how he hit on her in an attempt to convince her to let him go. Troy was doubled over laughing halfway through, only managing to calm himself down when the phone rang again. Kate answered it, and walked the caller through how to pay her speeding ticket online. When she hung up, Troy bombarded her with more questions.

* * *

Gabriella stood in the dark, her arms loose at her sides. Rolling her neck, she reached up to adjust the headset clipped her to ear. Sliding the tiny mic into place, she lifted her heels and stretched her feet, bouncing on her toes. Her fingers curled and uncurled, one finger at a time, around the grip of her side arm. The pistol's small size reminded her that this was a drill, not the real thing. She had a tendency to let the adrenaline take over in situations where she felt confined. Sucking in a breath, she let it out slowly and let her eyes dart around, looking for the slightest movement.

"Ready, Gabi?" Aaron, asked in her ear.

"Let's do this," Gabriella told him, shifting her weight into the familiar crouched stance used to search a scene. "Start the program."

Suddenly, in the midst of the blackness, the silence turned to the deafening squeal of an alarm. It was meant to override her thought process. Gabriella shoved it away and turned, to check her back and took aim at the target that appeared. Putting a bullet in the head of the cut-out that was pointing a gun at her, she spun, and took a step, taking out another target. For the next ten minutes, Gabriella cleared the training warehouse one room and one target at a time. She took out those depicted as threats and bypassed those that were supposed to represent innocents. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her hands felt sweaty inside the gloves she wore. When she shot the last target, and the lights came on, she relaxed and let out a breath.

"Impressive," Will called over the headset. She turned and looked up, seeking them out in the window she could now see. "Didn't beat me, though."

"Yeah, yeah," Gabriella griped, pulling off her gloves and scrubbing her hands dry on her pants. "Mr. Awesome, himself."

"So we still have an hour before shift," Aaron commented as she left the training house and entered the control room. She noticed that Sam had joined them and was watching her. It unnerved her, to have him scrutinize her like a Subject they were negotiating with. "You want to hit that breakfast cafe on the corner? Jenna and Gavin are already there."

"I think I'll pass," Gabriella told him, meeting Sam's gaze. "I haven't been to the range this week."

"Gabi, you just ran three rounds of the training programs, I think Serge can let you off on your weekly range requirements." Aaron looked at Sam expectantly. Will looked at Gabriella. "Serge?"

"No can do," Sam told him with a small smile, chuckling. "Gotta follow the rules."

"Seriously?" Aaron responded.

"Yeah, seriously," Sam told him. "You know, we're going to start to think you just don't want her beating you at the range. I believe you were on the top of the scoreboard this week."

"He has you there," Will joked, nudging Aaron whose jaw dropped.

"Fine," Aaron conceded. "You want us to bring you back breakfast?"

"Pancakes, please!" Gabriella called as she turned to leave the room. She was at the stairs when Sam called her name.

"I'm going to join you," he said, walking quietly beside her. Gabriella bit the inside of her cheek and didn't answer. After a moment, Sam tried again. "You hesitated with the child targets."

"I know," Gabriella answered. "I'm working on it."

"It hasn't happened since your first week here," Sam pointed out. "When I asked you about it then, you told me it happens when you're tired or you're stressed." Gabriella remained silent, sparing him a single glance as she swiped her ID and entered the gun range in the basement of the headquarters building. "So which is it?" Sam asked her.

"You're profiling me," Gabriella replied, selecting a pair of head phones and draping them around her neck. She picked up a loaded weapon and a handful of loaded magazines. Sam didn't copy her.

"Specialist Montez," Sam said seriously, switching to her official title. "I asked you a question. Are you sleeping?"

"Yes." Gabriella loaded the gun and stepped up to the portioned cubicle that blocked her view from the others practicing around her. A target slid up, into view. She double checked her weapon.

"So you're stressed," Sam decided.

"No." Gabriella set the gun aside and braced both arms against the small shelf portion of the partition.

"Gabriella, if something is going on that could affect your mindset on the job—" Sam was cut off by Gabriella spinning around, angry splotches on her cheeks.

"Sergeant, I am thankful for your concern, but my job is not affected by my personal life," Gabriella told him evenly. She tried to stamp down on her temper. One argument with Troy and her entire life was under a microscope.

"What about when your job and your personal life cross paths?" Sam inquired, crossing his arms. "What about last night?"

"I did nothing but my job last night," Gabriella told him harshly. "What was said between myself and Officer Bolton had nothing to do with our jobs. We have been nothing but professional when we have shared calls, and it will continue to be so."

"Good," Sam told her, nodding. "Then let's get this over with."

Gabriella obliged, slipping the headphones over her ears and her safety glasses into place. Taking her place in her cubicle, she raised her weapon and clicked off the safety. She took out the first target, emptying the bullet clip into the inner circle painted on its chest. The second followed. Then a third. When she was finished, Sam clapped her on the back and had the range attendant change the stats on the ETU record boards so that her name appeared above Aaron's. He didn't say another word about her hesitation or Troy.

* * *

Troy was pouring over a file folder filled with phone records when Kate returned from a run to the twenty-four hour coffee house down the street. Leaning over the chest high front desk, she set his coffee on the lower, inner desk he was working at. Holding out his hands, she placed the creamers and sugars in one hand, and her own coffee in the other. She waited until he had buzzed her through the secured door before tossing him the bag of muffins she had also procured. Then she wove her way to the back of the bullpen to deliver coffee to Evan and his booking partner. While she was gone, Troy took a sip of his black coffee and opened the bag of muffins. Deciding that the cranberry one must be hers, he pulled out the carrot muffin and broke it in half. His mouth was full when Kate returned.

"How goes the zoo?" he asked, swallowing what he would have to classify as breakfast until he got off shift. "It seems overly exciting back there for a Monday night."

"Apparently there was a brawl at the East High home opener," Kate replied, shrugging as she stirred cream into her coffee. "The ref didn't call a foul and two West High parents got into an argument with him on the court. Then some smart-ass East kid mouthed off to the West captain and the next thing you know it's world war three over a basketball game."

"Hey," Troy joked, "Basketball is a big deal. And if you think the B-Ball teams are bad, you should see what happens when the judges miss a point at a Scholastic Decathlon meet."

"You were on the scholastic decathlon team?" Kate asked, giving him a side long glance. "How have I not heard that?"

"First, you've been here what? Two weeks?" Troy pointed out. "Secondly, no I was not on the decathlon team. I was the basketball captain." He flashed a wide, cocky grin in her direction.

"Of course you were," Kate muttered, pulling out her muffin. "But you know about the violence of the scholastic decathlon?"

"Yeah, Br—," he paused, "I had friends on the team. I was supportive."

"Sure you were," Kate nodded. "Let me guess. You were Romeo, the King of the Jocks, and she was Juliet, Queen of the Nerds, and you thought you were destined to be together forever." Kate looked at him. "Am I right?"

"Hardly," Troy told her. "The friend on the team was dating my buddy, Chad. I went because he tricked me."

"Oh," Kate sounded disappointed. "So it had nothing to do with a girl you had the hots for."

"Haha," Troy laughed, picking up the file folder while Kate buttered her muffin top. "No, I dated two girls in high school. One was a cheerleader, and the other was the basketball captain of the girl's team."

"Dashing my fantasies, Bolton," Kate sighed, "Dashing my fantasies."

Troy was halted from responding to her further by the ringing phone. Picking it up, he noted that Kate had pulled on a headset so she could listen to dispatch relaying calls between their officers out on the streets. Listening to the woman on the other end of his phone conversation, Troy asked her a few clarifying questions and jotted down some notes. She was calling to report a party at her neighbor's house. She normally wouldn't, she kept insisting to Troy that the neighbor's daughter was a very good kid who had never been a problem, but it seemed odd that a large number of cars were parked in front her house on a school night while her parents were on a business trip. As far as the caller had been told by the parents, the girl was supposed to be staying at an aunt's on the other side of town.

"Ma'am, this might seem like an odd question, but can you tell me what you see? Lights on? People outside? Do you hear music?" Troy asked, something feeling off about the situation.

"Oh," the woman answered, taking a moment to think about his request. "Well, I don't hear any music. Not even that vibrate sound when you know the music is loud but you can't make it out. There are no outside lights on; that's what caught my eye. I thought the first car was Sarah just stopping by to get some things but then the other cars all showed up and they were pretty loud until they went inside."

"And these people," Troy asked, "They look to be about the same age as Sarah? Older?"

"Maybe older?" the woman said. "Sarah's only in grade ten, I think, so maybe these boys were grade eleven or twelve?"

"Are there lights on inside the house?" Troy asked, motioning at Kate to read his notes.

"Not in any of the windows facing my house," she explained. "But they could be in the basement."

"Ma'am, can you see any of the vehicles without going outside?" Troy asked. When she said yes, he continued. "Can you describe them to me, and any parts of their license plates?"

By this point, Kate had left the desk and fetched the night sergeant back to Troy who was copying down vehicle descriptions as the woman gave them. Troy pointed out the first one to Kate and motioned at the computer. Typing it in, Kate scrolled through the details. Shaking her head, she tried the next one. Still nothing. Just the owners and their addresses. The third one confirmed to Troy that it wasn't a high school party. The silver SUV that the woman claimed had been one of the first to arrive belonged to a known low level drug dealer that had no affiliation with any of the local gangs, but had brought their wrath down upon him more than once for dealing on their territory. The fourth vehicle was registered to a member of the Daggers. Just for the hell of it, Troy ran the girl and her parents' names through his system. They were flagged in a case that one of the detectives at Station Twenty-Six had been working on. The father was a possible witness to money laundering through a Dagger owned business.

"Ma'am, we are sending officers over to deal with the disturbance, but I need you to lock all your doors and stay inside. Since you haven't actually seen Sarah, we are going to treat it as a break and entry. If we need more information from you, we will call." Troy thanked her and hung up.

"I'll dispatch units to the house," the sergeant told Troy. "Call the detective from Twenty-Six and see what he thinks."

"What about ETU?" Kate asked. "Should we notify them?"

"We'll wait and see what we find," the sergeant told them. "You two are staying here. Listen to dispatch for any related calls. See if you can track down this aunt the girl was supposedly staying with. Maybe she can tell us where Sarah is tonight. Let me know if anything else comes up."

"Yes, Sir," Troy said, running a hand over his face. Looking over at Kate, he said, "Call Twenty-Six and get the detective."

"Sir?" Kate asked as he got up and headed for the bullpen.

"I'm going to booking to see if someone from the basketball games knows anything about Sarah and any friends she may have."

Kate nodded and picked up the phone to call the other station, her fingers flying over the computer keyboard as she filled in gaps on Troy's notes such as addresses and the other cars they hadn't had the chance to run through yet. Troy watched her for a moment before walking through the desks on the main floor and down the hallway to the holding cells and the booking desk. Catching a glimpse of the clock on the wall, he hoped that there was someone still around that could answer his questions.

* * *

Gabriella flattened her back against the wall beside the patio door leading to the house. Gavin had taken the same position on the other side of the door. Her helmet in place and her goggles protecting her eyes, even in the blackness of the night, Gabriella checked the magazine on her weapon and clicked off the safety. Looking over at Gavin, he nodded and reached out a hand to check the door. It was locked. Shaking his head, he listened to the chatter coming from the garage entry team and the team stationed at the front door.

"Boss," he called quietly over the mics, "The patio sliding door is locked."

"Can you breach it?" Sam asked from the front lawn.

"Might be easier to go through a window," Gabriella told him.

"Walk me through it," Sam told her.

"There is a bigger window to my left," Gabriella said. "Big enough for me to climb through. If we get it open, I can let Gavin in without using any fireworks. You said we were going for silent."

"Okay, Montez, do it. How much time?" Sam answered.

"A couple of minutes, tops," Gavin said, already inspecting the casing of the window. "Have you made contact yet?"

"No," Sam responded, concerned. "They haven't picked up the landline and Sarah's cell phone is going to voicemail."

Gabriella's team had been pouring over new security system designs that had been installed at the airport and all government buildings when they had been notified of an active call involving officers from Station Twenty-Eight and Twenty-Six. The combined seven officers had been responding to a disruption complaint that had quickly been ruled as a break and enter. The owners of the home were known to be away on a business trip and their sixteen year old daughter was supposed to be elsewhere. The first officers on the scene had circled the home twice, looking for a view point. They found nothing. No one was visible through the windows. The house had been too quiet for a party but the rise and fall of arguing voices could be heard through the basement windows. Not enough to follow the conversation, but enough to confirm a presence.

When the officers made themselves present by knocking on the door, they were rewarded by Sarah herself opening the door. She hadn't been alone though. The guy holding a gun to her head made himself very much known. Even more so when he fired his weapon in the direction of the cops. They had returned fire, careful of the hostage he dragged inside with him, slamming the door. The ETU had been notified and now the house was surrounded by a swarm of uniforms. Sergeants and police from both stations had shown up. Gabriella wasn't a hundred percent sure what that reasoning was, but she pushed it aside.

"Montez, how's that window coming?" Sam asked a few moments later.

"Almost there," she reassured him. "We have any idea what the situation is yet?"

"We're working on it," he answered. "The detectives are trying to ID some of the people in the house."

"And?" Will was positioned at the garage door with Jenna, waiting as she tried to override the signal that would buzz when the side door was opened.

"It looks like Twenty-Six has been investigating a computer tech shop over on Bordeaux. The store is owned by a computer whiz with ties to the Daggers. The detective from Two-Six has a theory that the shop is implanting all repaired technology with a chip that copies their account info, credit card numbers and sends it back to him to siphon money from their accounts," Sam explained, the detective in question tossing out details to pass along. "There is also a possibility they are laundering money through the business as well. Sarah's father, John, is a forensic accountant. The business got randomly selected last year for a government tax audit. John was sent in to the do the job. He reported back that there were discrepancies in the records and that one of the employees had hinted at the possibility of a bribe." Since then, Sam explained, Sarah's family had been highlighted as potentially at risk. Until today, though, nothing had suggested they were willing to get dirty about it.

"What tipped off the cops?" Gabriella asked, helping Gavin finish removing the window from the house, leaving a gaping hole.

"The officer on the desk tonight at the two-eight," Sam replied. "Took a call from a woman concerned about a party next door. She knew they were away and found it out of character for the daughter. Called it in. The officer felt that something seemed off."

"How'd they get the girl?" Gavin inquired, scanning the kitchen area they had just gained access to.

"We don't know yet," Sam told him, "But we think there's a personal connection between Sarah and one of the guys inside. Station Twenty-Eight has two West High students in a holding cell that are in class with Sarah. They were part of a brawl on the basketball court tonight. We're waiting for their parents before anyone can question them."

"We're in," Gavin told Sam, gripping his weapon and helping Gabriella inside. "Jenna, are you with us?"

"We're in too," Aaron answered for them both.

"Alright, guys," Will called over their headsets. "Go slow. Serge and I are going to take the third story, Gavin and Gabriella, take the main floor, Jen and Aaron, head for the basement."

"Copy," Gabriella muttered, stepping out from behind a wall into a dining room. "Clear."

"The kitchen's clear," Gavin told her softly.

"Let's keep going then," Gabriella reminded him, moving onto the living room and a study while Gavin took the bathroom and the laundry room.

By the time Gabriella and Gavin had cleared the main floor, Sam and Will had met them at the top of the stairs leading to the basement. Jen and Aaron were halfway down, crouched awkwardly, trying to hear the conversation taking place just beyond their sight. Sam had hoped to talk them into letting Sarah go if they were ambushed with six heavily armed and trained cops. It didn't work. During the time they cleared the house, they had learned that Sarah had been secretly dating one of her captors in an attempt to tick off her parents who were always flitting off to a new job. Sarah hadn't known what the boyfriend did for his money, she had just known his presence would antagonize her dad. Sam's peaceful talk first approach, shoot second plan failed and the team had resorted to Plan B.

It was Gavin who threw the flashbomb, blinding everyone except the ETU team that was ready for it. Will had enough time to grab Sarah and fling her up the stairs, placing her behind him before the captors remembered how to use their trigger fingers and started shooting blind. When the light and the deafening noise faded, Gabriella saw that three out of the five perps in the basement had taken bullets. One looked dead. The other two were on their knees, yelling for everything to stop. Cuffed and read their rights, Gabriella frog marched her captive up the basement steps, through the hallway and out the front door where he was lead to a police cruiser from Twenty-Eight. Gavin followed her with the second subject.

"Better than the training warehouse?" Gavin joked, passing off his captive to another officer.

"Specialist Montez!" Brian's shout caused her to turn around and seek out who was looking for her. "Where is your sergeant?"

"Still inside with the Twenty-Six detective," she told him. "And the medics although I don't think they will be able to do much."

"Thanks." Brian nodded curtly at her. He started walking away.

"Wait," she called. "I thought this was a Twenty-Six case?"

"It is," Brian answered shortly, "But this particular part of the much bigger case occurred within Twenty-Eight, so now we have to share."

"I'm sure you can do that," Gabriella told him, grinning as she teased.

"Yes, well, I should find them." Brian said, not returning her smile. His face was serious and his voice was no-nonsense. "Thanks again."

As he walked away, Gabriella watched, confusion in her features. Turning back towards the SUVs, she decided the best thing she could do while they waited for Sam was to pack away their gear in the truck. She was only steps away when realization hit her and she looked over her shoulder to where Brian was speaking with his sergeant. His tone was because of Troy. Gabriella felt her expression harden and she bit the inside of her cheek. It had been awhile since she had felt the icy brush of someone picking sides.


	8. Define Seek

**The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us**

_Disclaimer: I do not own HSM. Or Flashpoint. Or Rookie Blue. _

**Chapter Eight- Define Seek**

_seek (verb):attempt to find._

* * *

Gabriella left one hand on the steering wheel of the ETU SUV and used the other to pick up the cup of cold coffee sitting in the holder between the front seats. Taking a sip, she cringed, but took another anyway. Unit Three was back on the day shift now that it was Thursday and it had been a quiet morning so far. Gabriella had checked the mechanics on all the bomb disposal technology, including the tiny robot they used to get close to unknown devices, while the rest of the team cleaned and inventoried stock for both their own team and the team relieving them for the night shift. They had worked through lunch, pouring over transcripts from their calls over the past week, cataloguing evidence and research that they had dug up during the investigation of their subjects. Sam had even splurged and ordered lunch to the station to make the process easier. Afterwards, he had decided that the best way to wake up his team was to patrol.

Patrolling was an exercise in many aspects. First, it made them visible. Secondly, it allowed for them to be aware of the changes in the routes available in the city. They would pick a destination and see which routes were fastest and had less civilian obstacles. They would drive through new developments, learning the layout of new ground. For Gabriella, it also meant she got to drive. It didn't happen very often, since most of the time she and Jenna would be downloading information during their calls or uploading specs and imaging feeds to everyone else while their partners drove. Jenna liked to call them the Gadget Girls but Gabriella could only give her a weak smile. The nickname lacked something.

Sam kept up a steady stream of commentary in her ear as she drank her coffee. Setting it down, she used her free hand to pull up the sleeves of her black long sleeved shirt and adjust the strap of her watch. Replacing her hand on the wheel, Gabriella spun the wheel to the right and followed the street to the next intersection. Waiting at the red light, she glanced at the dashboard clock and then at her wrist watch. When the light turned green, she eased into traffic and waited until she could pull through and make her left hand turn.

"You going to be late for something?" Will asked her. "You keep looking at the time."

"I think my watch is dying," she told him. "I keep setting it based on the SUV clocks and it's still always a few minutes behind."

"Could be," he shrugged. "Thought maybe you were just excited to get off shift."

"No," Gabriella replied. "Knowing us, we're going to get a call in five minutes that will last until midnight."

"Better not happen," Will grumbled. "I have a game that I would actually like to make for once."

"The community league or the Department league?" Gabriella asked, stopping at a stop sign and then pulling away.

"Department. We're playing against the Two-Six, Two-Seven and Two-Eight team," Will told her, gleefully rubbing his hands together. "Last time they beat us, so this is a rematch. Our honor is at stake."

"Maybe you shouldn't be hanging your honor on a team that is mainly made up of middle-aged high ranking officials from headquarters," Gabriella suggested.

"Gabby, you can't diss the team that represents you," Will scoffed at her. "We bring you honor with our victories."

"No, you earn macho points," Gabriella pointed out with a grin. "And then you wonder why the beat cops don't want to play with you? Doesn't matter, I have seen the boys from the east stations play before. You're going to be creamed. It would help if you had a decent shooting guard."

"Are you volunteering?" Will asked sarcastically.

"No," Gabriella told him. "I don't play shooting guard. And I have no idea why you are playing center while that White Collar Crime guy plays point guard. It makes no sense. He is like six foot two and you are five foot eight. And don't get me started on that grandpa from the evidence depot. He gets fouled constantly. Half the time I think the ref just ignores it to save time. "

"Wait, what?" Will turned to look at her but Gabriella kept her eyes on the road. Her smile stretched from ear to ear though so Will knew he hadn't heard her wrong. "You play?"

"I do," Gabriella admitted. "A little bit."

"Define a little," Gavin called over their headsets and she laughed. "As in you throw basketballs at a net at the gym or as in you actually play?"

"I was captain of my high school basketball team. Played point guard most of the time," Gabriella told them. "Was asked to play for Notre Dame but turned them down for Stanford's offer of a full ride through their chemistry and engineering program. Aren't you glad I did?"

"Why don't you play for the PD league?" Will asked. "This is awesome, G," he said to Gavin. "We put her in point guard, and move me to shooting guard and move that guy from the forensic accounting sector to the bench!"

"I never said I would play for you," Gabriella told them but they didn't listen.

"That could work," Gavin was saying. "Hard to say though. We don't know anything about this new guy that Tobin was blabbing on about at The Shield last night. I went by to see if they were practicing today but no one struck me as this new guy."

"Maybe we throw her out there and see if they underestimate her." Will was tapping his chin with a forefinger as he reached for her cup of coffee. Taking a sip he grimaced. "Gabby, this stuff is horrible. Why are you drinking it?"

"It's caffeinated. Also, I am not playing in your basketball game tonight. I have to hire someone to do my roof." Gabriella swung the vehicle onto the main road and merged into the right hand lane. "You will have to take on the new guy by yourself."

"Gabby!" Gavin cried. "We need you. Well, maybe. Depends on if you're awesome."

"I am awesome," Gabriella assured him. "But no. Serge, I am going to need to stop for coffee soon if these two keep it up."

"Copy that, Montez," Sam called to her, laughing. "Actually, why don't we head back to the station? Except Gabriella and Will, if you could swing by the Two-Eight on your way; their Captain has some things that need to be added to our case files for the last two weeks, he's going to leave them at the front desk for you."

"Sure thing, Boss," Will told him, noticing how Gabriella's hands had gone white against the steering wheel. "Gabby just needs some coffee first."

Gabriella responded by pulling over in front of the nearest Starbucks and handing Will five bucks. He raised an eyebrow at her but went in without a word, returning a few minutes later with two cups. He frowned when he noticed she had vacated the driver's seat and was sitting on the passenger side of the SUV. Handing over her signature vanilla bean latte, he slid behind the wheel and took a sip of his own before placing it in a cup holder. Gabriella held her own drink with two hands, staring straight ahead.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she told him, offering him an unconvincing smile. "Just thought you would want something to do. It's been a long afternoon."

Wordlessly, Will eased the SUV out into traffic and headed towards Station Twenty-Eight. It took them fifteen minutes to weave through the early stages of rush hour traffic. Gabriella sipped her drink, ending the stream of chatter they had kept up during patrol. She could catch moments of conversation from the other team members before they reached headquarters and turned off their headsets. Gabriella pulled hers off when it became pointless. Will handed her his as well. She placed them in her bag and then sat back, anticipating the turns before they would reach Troy's station.

Pulling down the visor suddenly, she caught Will's glance while she checked her appearance. She tugged the elastic from the end of her tight braid and shook out her hair. When it was untangled, she tossed it up into a messy bun. It softened her features, she thought. Reaching into a pocket on her pants, she found her lip gloss and slid a layer over her lips before returning the visor to its prior position. When Will turned onto the Station's street, she undid her seat belt and slid off her jacket. She didn't want to walk inside with ETU emblazoned all over her. Looking up, she saw that they had arrived. Will pulled up in front of the main doors and put the vehicle in park.

"I can go," he offered, giving her an understanding look.

"No," Gabriella said, sucking in a breath and letting it out. "We need to work together. More importantly, people need to know we can. Just—," she paused and looked at Will. "How do I look? I don't want to look angry or annoyed or—."

"You look fine," Will grinned. "Just smile or something. Don't go in there looking like you're on a manhunt for a suspect."

She scowled at him and slid from the truck. Adjusting her utility belt, she stretched out her muscles from riding in the SUV all afternoon. As she approached the front doors and pulled them open she caught a glimpse of herself in the window's reflection. Her hair looked touseled but less severe than when it was braided, and her sunglasses hid her eyes until she was inside and she slid them to rest on her hair. The long sleeves of her black t-shirt were bunched up to expose her forearms. Her sidearm rubbed at her hip and she was reminded that most of her gear from her belt was in the SUV. She felt light.

Reaching the front desk, Gabriella rested her hands on the top and leaned forward to grab the attention of the young cop assigned to the job of desk clerk for the day. She looked slightly taller than Gabriella and possibly a little heavier. Her blonde hair was coiled up in a perfectly round bun and her bangs were pinned out of the way with a purple clip. Two caps were on the counter behind her where a stack of files were neatly piled with a sticky on top. Beside them was a coffee cup with the East High wildcat logo on it and cell phone in a red case. The cop on duty was holding a travel coffee mug in one hand and a highlighter in the other as she spoke into the headset that was buried in her ear with the accompanying mic pulled close to her mouth. She looked up at Gabriella and signalled for her to wait a moment. Gabriella nodded and took the chance to look around.

Behind her, where she had just entered, was a small waiting area. Behind the front desk, she could see through the bullet proof glass into the main bullpen. Half a dozen officers sat at desks, pouring over paperwork or case files. Two were on the phone. Beyond that, Gabriella noticed the wood and glass door to the captain's office. The blinds were pulled so she couldn't tell if he was inside or not. She didn't see anyone she knew, but she also knew that beyond the bullpen was a hallway that led to booking, holding cells, officer locker rooms and a break room. There was also a small gym that she had noticed on her last visit. She jerked her eyes back to the woman at the desk when she heard her shift.

"Yes?" the cop asked, moving the mic out of her way and setting down her mug. Gabriella noted that her name badge said Martin. She also had the small pin on her chest that indicated she was a rookie.

"Hi, I'm with the ETU. I'm supposed to picking up some files?" Gabriella told her quietly. The girl frowned, standing to look around the desk.

"Who was leaving them?" she asked, moving a few things around and then turning to look on the back counter. She flipped through the files Gabriella had noticed earlier.

"Your captain, I think," Gabriella replied. "Maybe one of your detectives? They are copies to add to our files for calls we jointly worked on." She leaned further over the counter. "Those have a sticky on them. Maybe it says Sergeant Sam Hill? Or ETU Unit Three?"

"No," Kate Martin drew out, sorting through the pile and rereading the sticky note again. "These are for Troy's undercover thing this weekend—" Gabriella caught the mutterings under her breath and stopped breathing for a moment. Trying to focus, she looked past the desk to the bullpen.

"Maybe one of the other officers know? Is your captain in?" she asked, her palms sweating as she fought the building feeling in her gut to just get out.

"Yeah, but I can't—," Kate paused and her face lit up with relief at something behind Gabriella. Turning, she noticed that two officers had arrived for their shifts. They gave her a glance, catching the white lettering on the back of her shirt and the gun at her hip. Kate addressed them. "Perfect! Callum, could you find Troy or Brian back there and send them out? This ETU officer is looking for files that no one told me about."

"I thought Bolton was on desk with you?" Callum asked, resting his hand on the door as Kate buzzed him through.

"He is. He's on break. Probably in the gym. Captain told him he needs to be cleared for duty before tomorrow night if he's going to help run the op downtown," Kate explained as Callum and Wes walked through.

"Oh yes," Wes laughed, "I heard you're going in as one of the prostitutes. Hope you're game."

Kate rolled her eyes and turned back to Gabriella as the guys let the door shut and lock behind them. Gabriella noticed the blush on her cheeks as she busied herself with tidying up the desk and returning Troy's files to their place. She moved his mug out of the way and put her own with it. Fiddling with her headset, she finally looked up at Gabriella's amused face.

"I'm sorry, officer," she said, "But they will find someone who knows where they are."

"Sure," Gabriella told her softly. She thought for a moment and then took a leap. "Look younger than you are." When Kate looked confused, Gabriella clarified. "When you're on the op, look younger than you are. Go easy on the makeup, keep the clothes simple, and leave your hair down. That way if you're nervous, they will think it's because you're young and new."

"Um, thank you," Kate replied. "I really need to do a good job. I already screwed up someone else's op this week; if I mess up Troy and Brian's there will be hell to pay."

"Don't think of it as an op," Gabriella suggested. "Pretend it's a role you're acting out in a play. You won't be arresting them, so don't think of it from the tactical perspective. Just be who you are supposed to be and your partners will be there to do the rest."

Footsteps sounded behind Gabriella and she felt the air shift from the open front door. She didn't turn around to look but she saw how Kate instantly ducked her head and tried to look busy. Curious, Gabriella waited until the person entered her peripheral vision. He was tall and big across the shoulders. His muscles bulged against his grey t-shirt that seemed too small, as if purposely drawing attention to himself. His jeans hung low on his hips and his sunglasses were still in place despite the lack of natural lighting. Gabriella's gaze slipped over his shaved head and barely there facial shadow before looking back to Kate when he barked at her.

"Hey, Rook, you planning on letting me in today or are you still confused and think I'm a criminal?" he snarled.

"No, Sir, I was just helping the ETU officer and didn't notice you." Gabriella had to bite her cheek not to grin at the Rookie's subtle attitude.

"I am sure that Officer—?" he trailed off as he sized up Gabriella. When his eyes reached her face, Gabriella met his gaze square on and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Specialist Montez," she offered. "I'm sorry we delayed you."

"No," he told her, shaking his head and approaching her. "I am sorry to have interrupted. It's just that Officer Martin here is not the most capable. Perhaps I can be of better help to you? I'm Luca Grey." He offered her his hand. Gabriella ignored it.

"Thank you, but I doubt it. You haven't been here all morning and you're not assigned to the desk. Officer Martin is perfectly competent. I am just waiting for someone." Gabriella looked over at Kate and then back to Luca.

"Who?" Luca asked, casually, but not subtly, leaning against the desk.

"Me, actually." Troy's voice held a light, casual tone to it. Gabriella gave him a look. It was a voice he used to antagonize people or simply annoy them. He smiled at her. "Thanks, Kate, for letting me know she was here. Brie, do you have a minute? We're still trying to pull some things together from Brian's notes."

"Sure, but Will is in the SUV and he's antsy to get off shift at five. Apparently my people are playing your people in the PD basketball league." She paused and took a chance, praying he kept up this cheerful, friendly act he had going on. "Something about a new player going to tear us apart?"

"Funny," Troy told her, holding open the door and letting her walk through. He let it close in Luca's face who had to wait for Kate to buzz him in again. "Tell Will that the new player got shot and won't be at the game. He has a hot date with the department physiotherapist." They walked through the bullpen to the back room that served as Brian's office. "What about you? You part of the team I was going to tear apart?"

"No," she laughed, catching Brian's eye. "I have a hot date with your dad and a roofing company."

"Nice," Troy replied, closing the door behind him.

"What's up with you two?" Brian asked. "And why does Troy look like he just arrested someone important?"

"Grey tried to woo Montez here with his wit and charm," Troy explained, losing the banter they had been carrying on and focusing on the box he was putting together.

"Troy felt it necessary to irk him," Gabriella muttered, flipping carelessly through a file without actually looking at it. "All that was missing was your caveman dance."

"Please tell me you didn't get into it with Luca again," Brian pleaded, look at Troy. "Dan is only going to be nice and put you on opposite shifts for so long before you have to be nice." Gabriella stamped down on a million verbal barbs that crowded her tongue but she swallowed them.

"I will be nice to him when he stops dragging Kate's name through the mud," Troy replied. "She made a mistake. She's new and she didn't know he was there. It wasn't even her fault. Bennett was the one who announced in booking that there was supposed to be an undercover cop at the club."

"She said she screwed up an op this week," Gabriella said. "I'm assuming that's what you're talking about?"

"She shouldn't be talking about that with you," Troy snapped and Gabriella raised her hands in mock surrender. He slid some papers in a folder and placed the file in the box.

"Are you sure she can handle tomorrow night and Saturday?" Brian asked. "Because this sting is a big deal now that Luca has been burned and that case is in ruins. Headquarters is all over us to make up for the money that went into it."

"She can handle it," Troy and Gabriella said at the same time. Time froze for a moment and then Gabriella felt their fragile and fake peace snap.

"You can't know that," Troy told her hotly. "You spent what? Five seconds with her? Brian's right. She spills about everything. She's impulsive. She jumps without thinking. The only reason I am backing her up is because I know she can talk herself in and out of anything. You don't know her."

"I know she feels like she needs to prove something to you. Not just this precinct, but you in particular. That's enough to make her do her best." Gabriella argued. "And let's be fair. She's cute and she's playing a hooker. She doesn't even have to talk."

"Well, you would know, Brie, wouldn't you?" Troy shot back. "Smile and let the boys melt at your feet."

"Whoa, Bolton," Brian whistled, taken aback by the insult, "Lay off, man."

"Are you implying that I got to where I am because of my looks?" Gabriella growled, fists curling around the edge of the table.

"No," Troy smirked, "You went there all on your own. I was implying that you spent time with Sharpay Evans enough in high school to learn all the right manoeuvres."

"You were not," Gabriella spit out. "It doesn't matter. I came for a box of stuff that was supposed to be ready. My shift is over in fifteen minutes and I want to go home."

"Oh, yes, your highness," Troy even gave her a mock dip of a bow, "Please let us run to fulfill your request. It's just like you ETU guys to expect everything to be ready yesterday."

"Us ETU guys?" Gabriella repeated. "As opposed to what? The arrogant and cocky officers of the Guns and Gangs undercover pool?"

"Guys, I think that's enough," Brian hissed at them. "Gabriella, I will bring the stuff to you at the front desk. Kate should have a form for you to sign to show the transfer of evidence. Troy, go get some coffee."

"I don't want coffee," Troy told him.

"Then get some for me," Brian snapped back at him.

"You don't—" Troy was cut off by the knock on the door and Ruby poking her head in to find Troy.

"Bolton, you're needed in booking. Someone is stripping in the cell and your rookie is ready to lose it." Ruby turned to leave and then spun around again, pointedly looking at the occupants of the room. "Oh, and next time, make sure the interview speaker system isn't on when you decide to get into it."

Gabriella shot Troy a death glare and then stormed out of the room, back towards the main desk. Kate smiled when she returned but quickly made herself busy when she noticed the change in Gabriella's mood. She pointed out where to sign the form, and answered Gabriella's question about who to list as a contact at the precinct. After copying down Brian's information as Kate relayed it to her, Gabriella handed the form back just as Brian brought her the box of files. He looked grim as he handed them over.

"Just so that we're clear," Brian said to her, rubbing his jaw, "From where I stand, you started that shit."

Without a word, Gabriella accepted the box and turned on her heel. Will looked sufficiently annoyed when she finally returned to the SUV. Sliding into her seat and putting on her seatbelt, she waited until Will had called Sam to tell him they were on their way back to headquarters. Will said nothing about her dark mood that settled over the front cabin of the vehicle like a storm. When he asked about the wait, she told him that nothing had been ready. He had looked offended and she let him think that they shared the same frustrations. Inside though, all she could think of was how Troy had smiled at her before they walked into that interview room.

* * *

Troy returned from booking to find Brian waiting for him outside of Interview Room Two. Without a word, Brian held open the door and gestured for Troy to go inside. He contemplated arguing with him, or ignoring him and walking back to the front desk, but something stopped him and he went inside. He kept his back to the door until he heard it close and then he turned, head down and hands in his pockets. Rocking back and forth on his heels, Troy waited.

"You know," Brian began, disbelief washing over his features as he shook his head, "Your mom once said something to me that I didn't really understand. I don't remember why I was at their house, but I was dating that forensic science chick and your mom was asking about her. I told her that Robyn had a cute roommate that I thought you would be interested in and your mom, she gave me this look, as though I didn't have a clue." Brian tilted his head and looked at Troy, who was still glancing off to the side, avoiding the conversation. "And I didn't, did I? Have a clue, I mean."

"I don't know, man, you tell me," Troy finally said after a drawn out pause.

"I asked her then, about the girl in the picture," Brian confessed, still sounding amused with the whole situation although Troy knew he was anything but. "Thought she was going to brush me off or not know who I meant. She did though. Didn't even have to think about it. You know what she told me?"

"Nope." Troy finally raised his eyes, defiance flashing in them.

"She said that there had been girls, and there would be girls, but that there would always be Gabriella." Brian braced his hands on the metal table in the center of the room.

"What's your point, Ford?" Troy asked. Jerking his hands out of his pockets, he crossed them over his chest.

"I think you're still in love with her," Brian told him. Troy laughed, a deep rumbling laugh that left him breathless.

"Am I? Let me explain something to you. I love and will always love the Gabriella Montez I fell for in high school. The girl who I spent two summers working with in Colorado, the girl who would have sleepovers with me in a treehouse even though we were eighteen, and the girl who brought me her mom's chocolate brownies when I had strep throat the week before our senior prom. That girl is the love of my life," Troy insisted, jamming a finger into the top of the table. "The girl that was just in here? The one with the gun and the handcuffs? The one who walks without making a sound? The one who reeks of military training? She broke my heart and turned into something foreign. That girl is a stranger. I thought she was gone. I thought she disappeared years ago and that I would never see her again."

Troy paced the room, chest heaving as he tried to keep his emotions in check while at work. Recalling his past with Gabriella just opened himself to a whole onslaught of memories he had buried ten years ago when he realized she wasn't going to call him or text him or email him. She wasn't going to click 'like' on his Facebook wall, or wave to him with a half smile the next time she saw him. When he had realized that, Troy had tried to stop remembering her all together. Sometimes it worked. It made it easier, to remember two different Gabriella's and to forget that the same person could break his heart. Now, everything rushed back and yelled for his attention. He wanted to tell Brian everything just so he would get it.

Ten years ago, when he had ordered Gabriella to leave him in that treehouse and go back to her own house, Troy hadn't known that they had cracked. He knew there were fissures, sure, but not cracks big enough to destroy them. They had been living on opposite sides of the country, doing new things, meeting new people. It was too easy. He waited for her to make a move. She always did. She couldn't help it. So he had waited. Somewhere in between projects and essays and final exams and basketball practice, Troy forgot that time passed. He forgot that it hadn't been hours without a response but days and then weeks. When he woke up and noticed, he thought he could still fix it.

"I had a plan," he told Brian. "We hadn't officially broken up; just ignored each other for three weeks, so I thought all I needed was the perfect plan. I was stupid. I had forgotten how we fought."

It was true. Troy had returned home to Albuquerque for Christmas bursting with hope and arrogant that it would work. Gabriella hadn't been there. He went by her house every day for the first week, but didn't see her. Then, two days before Christmas, Troy had driven by and paused in just down the street from her driveway. Maria was loading her suitcase into the Danforth's car. A bag of presents followed. Troy had watched as she dug in her purse and pulled out the distinct shape of airplane tickets. Gabriella wasn't coming home. The following summer, Troy knew he wouldn't be able to stay away from her house so he applied to coach basketball camps in upper New York State. His old employer from summer camp in Colorado wrote his reference letter. That Christmas, Troy and his parents went to Georgia to visit his grandmother who was too ill to make the trip to New Mexico.

"We didn't have to talk each other to anticipate the other's actions. We knew our parents talked and we knew how to get answers even when they thought they were hiding them. They'd look guilty when they agreed with you that going away was a good idea, or coming home would make the holidays perfect. Then you'd know," Troy explained to Brian, "That she wouldn't be there. That it was safe and you didn't have to decide what you would say to her when you ran into each other at the mall."

"Troy, my point is that right now—", Brian started, clearly uncomfortable with learning something so intimate so fast.

"No, the point is that right now, there are moments that I forget," Troy told him harshly. "I forget that she's different and I forget what she did. I see her and I talk to her and I have to remind myself that we're faking it for the sake of being professional. That none it is real. I have to remind her."

Brian looked like he was going to speak. Troy watched as the detective curled his hands around the back of a metal chair and opened his mouth. He closed it. He looked at Troy. Sighing, he tried to speak again. Troy understood. There was nothing to say. No advice on how to get along. No wisdom on how to move on. Nothing. No one understood or knew what to say. His mother was right. There had been girls, but Gabriella was always there each time he felt himself start to give way to something new. Finally frustrated and having no idea what to do, Brian shoved the chair away from him so that its legs screeched against the floor. He left through the door they had entered, leaving Troy to lean against the wall and close his eyes.

* * *

Jack Bolton had spread out the blueprints to Gabriella's house on the bare kitchen counter. Standing on one side, he listened to the details of what the contractor wanted to do to complete Gabriella's moderate renovations on the house. The contractor leaned over the counter from the other side, his pencil sketching lines and drawing out dimensions. Gabriella half listened as she spoke to Ryan Evans on the phone from his office in Santé Fe.

"So the guy is saying it should only take a week and a half, two at the most," Gabriella told Ryan. "I should be completely out of the apartment in three weeks."

After high school, Ryan Evans had accepted a full ride scholarship to Juilliard in New York City. He spent two years there, studying dance and piano before his dad suffered a heart attack. The doctors told him it was because of stress and he needed to learn to share the workload. He started looking for a business partner. Ryan realized that while he had dreams of being on Broadway, he had other dreams too. He left Juilliard and enrolled in business management at U of A. When he graduated, he took over his father's interests in Santé Fe. He and Gabriella had resumed contact when she joined the Santé Fe Police Department.

As he became more comfortable taking economic risks, he started buying small recording studios and taking an active interest in their clients. Ryan found his niche in the music industry. He and Sharpay, who spent most of her time in New York City, still maintained an apartment in Albuquerque for when they were home or wanted to house business partners and clients. Ryan had given the keys to Gabriella to use until she found a house.

"I want to thank you. Not having to worry about a lease made things so much easier," Gabriella said, settling the phone between her ear and her shoulder.

"No problem," Ryan told her over the line. "How is it? Being back?"

"Same," Gabriella answered, "Different. I don't know."

"You said Coach is helping you?" Ryan tried again.

"Yeah, look, Ryan, I have to go talk prices and money. I'll call you and we'll make arrangements to deal with the keys." Gabriella abruptly ended the conversation and hung up, staring at the phone for a moment before turning towards the men. "Sorry about that, I wanted to pass your time line along to my sort-of landlord."

"Gabby, he's talking about the master bedroom and bathroom," Jack explained.

"I can change it around, Miss, but the current master bedroom is still slightly bigger than the room you want to use," the contractor told her, eyeing her up as she nodded.

"I know," Gabriella said, "But that's not really why I like it. I don't want to sleep in mom's old room. I'd rather be in mine."

The reno project wasn't overly big. Just small things that Gabriella wanted to do while she wasn't living in the space. The kitchen cupboards were being redone. The Banksons had replaced them years ago but Gabriella thought they looked cheap. The floor in the kitchen and the bathrooms on both levels was going, along with the tile in the entrance way. Maria Montez had always hated the blue entry tiles but had never gotten around to changing them. The roof would be reshingled and the balcony outside Gabriella's old room would be taken down and a new one built and installed. Gabriella kept saying it was because she didn't want to deal with the obvious mismatched siding that would occur in its place. The master suite was being changed so that the master bathroom was accessible through Gabriella's old room. Her mother's previous bedroom would become the spare room.

"The two back windows you need replaced are easy to do," the contractor continued, "But the window that looks over the back patio is a custom size. I left you a pamphlet to look over. See which option you like and call me on Monday to order it."

"I told him you are going to do the painting yourself," Jack said to Gabriella. "Anything else you need to go over?"

"I don't think so," Gabriella replied. "Thank you so much for coming."

"Your welcome, Miss. I will send you the estimate tomorrow, before the weekend. We can discuss payment next week when you order the window." He tipped his hardhat to her and left, taking the blueprints with him.

Gabriella showed him to the front door, returning to the kitchen afterwards. Jack was standing at the glass doors that opened onto the back patio, his back facing her. As she watched, he ran his hands through his greying hair. He stands like Troy, she thought. A memory of Jack yelling at her from the sidelines of the basketball court flickered in her mind and she smiled, entering the room loudly. He turned, smiling.

"That was successful," Jack said, hands in his pockets. "Carl will do a good job. Ryan Evans was on the phone?"

"Yes," Gabriella said quietly, "I told him I'd be out in three weeks. There's no rush of course, and it was a huge help, but with the Evans—" She trailed off.

"You're never quite sure if you owe them?" Jack offered. She nodded. "I understand. Last month Vance joined Charlie and I on the golf course for a round. A great golfer, but we've never really been friends so it was a tad uncomfortable."

"Well I only need three weeks and then things will settle down." Gabriella rubbed her hands together. "Did Lucy show you the paint samples?"

"Yes, she's as excited as you," Jack laughed. "I think she's just happy to be back in your life. She mentioned that you guys are going to do some shopping on your day off?"

"Next Monday," Gabriella confirmed. "I'm off Sunday and Monday. I made a list of things I need for the kitchen and I need curtains. Do you think you could help me with the measurements?"

"Sure, I can bring a ladder by tomorrow night?" Jack suggested.

"I'm off at five again," Gabriella said. She pulled out her phone, checking her schedule. "I was going to try and catch the East High game though."

"That's at eight; I can meet you here and then give you a lift to the school if you want." Jack looked over at her. "It'd be nice to have a buddy. Charlie isn't here and Lucy has book club."

"And Troy?" Gabriella asked suspiciously, although she knew of all the people in her life, Jack would least likely to throw them together without warning.

"Working," Jack told her, a sad smile on his lips. "He's running surveillance on Twenty-Eight's portion of the city wide prostitution sting. They do it every year in co-ordination with one another. Troy probably shouldn't have said anything to me, but he seemed pretty pleased that he's in the van this year and not on the street in leather pants and an undershirt."

"Right," she remembered. "I picked up some files from the station this afternoon. One of the officers mentioned it. He must have been cleared for duty then, if he's still working the op."

"Cleared?" Jack asked, his brow lifting in confusion.

"Uh yeah," Gabriella licked her lips, realizing that she had let something slip. "Because of Sunday night."

"What happened Sunday night? Wait, he mentioned there was a gang takedown." Jack frowned. "We haven't seen him though. Just a phonecall yesterday to tell Lucy he would be over on Sunday for breakfast. Did something happen? Did he fire his weapon?"

"Uh, no," Gabriella said, cursing inside at Troy. She should have known. "I did. That was a whole mess with Internal Investigation though. I spent four hours going over everything with then had to wait another three for them to clear me for my next shift."

"You were at a scene together?" Jack realized. "He said you'd been working together. If you were cleared, why wasn't he?" Jack paused and then closed his eyes. He suddenly looked tired. "What didn't he tell us, Gabriella? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine." Gabriella sighed and leaned back against the counter. Her hands gripped the edge of the marble top and her left hand drummed out a quiet beat. "Took a few fists to the head. Got some stitches."

"Concussion?" Jack asked. He saw her hesitate. "What else, Gabriella?"

"No concussion. He's been working the desk since Monday." She sighed. "He got shot in the vest. Gavin—one of my teammates—and I both shot to take down the subject. Gavin hit Troy."

"And you hit the target." Jack's voice was compassionate, worry for her different than it was for his son. "Maybe I should be asking how you are."

"I'm fine, Jack." Gabriella rubbed her hands over her eyes. "Really. It's what I was trained to do and an officer was at risk. I shouldn't have said anything. Troy probably didn't want you to worry."

"You've seen him since?" Jack asked, concerned.

"That night, after he got checked out," Gabriella replied. "He didn't appreciate that much." She saw Jack's look. He knew. "Yeah, so much for changing. I saw him this afternoon for a few minutes. Things didn't get any better."

"You two always were atrocious at expressing your feelings to each other," Jack commented.

"Oh, I think he expressed himself pretty well. The entire station could agree with me." Gabriella pushed off the counter and picked up her discarded coat.

"Gabby," Jack began, slipping into his own coat. "I'm talking about the feelings that lead to an argument. You can argue perfectly fine. I'm talking about all the things you lock away before exploding. You both suck at that."

"Well it's not like we've had the opportunity to talk it out before now," Gabriella responded, sarcasm dripping. Closing her eyes as they walked towards the door, she tried to quell her frustrations so she wouldn't be rude. Reaching the front door, she let Jack go first and then followed. "I'm sorry. I really would appreciate the help tomorrow and company to the game would be great."

Jack nodded, and walked towards the driveway, leaving her to lock the door and then follow him. Jack climbed into his truck and waved, backing out into the street and heading home for the night. Gabriella watched him and then took another look at her house. The shrubs and gardens had gotten bigger, but still felt the same. The front door still reminded her of what it was like to run up the walkway after school with Chad, hoping to find brownies on the counter. Smiling despite her mood over how the conversation had gone with Jack, Gabriella walked to her car and climbed in over the door. Before leaving, she unlocked her phone and found the list of household things she needed to purchase. She added a basketball hoop.

* * *

Gabriella was leaning over the dispatcher's desk on the ETU floor, listening in on Unit One's call on a highway overpass. Unit Three had returned to headquarters twenty minutes ago from a courthouse escort operation. They had forty minutes left to their shift and while they were technically still on call, Unit Two was on site in case a call came in. Unit One had been part of a child abduction case for most of the day, chasing down the estranged mother who had lost custody the week before. It sounded like things were about to come to an end if the mother would just get out of her car.

"Well, that was exciting," Justin Fowler, the dispatcher said as most of the dramatic chatter over the radio ended. "Your team expecting a visitor?"

Gabriella turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps. Troy was striding down the hall towards her. He was wearing slim fitting, grey dress pants, a dark maroon dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and the top two buttons undone, and a matching grey suit vest. His badge dangled on a chain around his neck and his hair was gelled into a mess. His dress shoes pounded out a beat as he made his arrival noticeable. Gabriella glimpsed herself at seventeen making the same noise, with the same purpose. Or she assumed his purpose was to yell. His eyes were dark navy and smouldering. Gabriella frowned.

"Montez!" he yelled, still several feet away. "A word, please!"

"Yes?" she asked, arm draped along the top of Justin's desk and her other hand on her hip. Her vest was still on and her duty belt still packed with equipment. Her boots were muddy and her hair was slipping out of its previously tight coil.

"You told my parents that I got shot?!" he was a few feet away and Gabriella realized he wasn't armed.

"Oh, bad move, Montez," Justin whispered from his chair. Gabriella shot him a glare.

"It may have slipped last night," she confirmed, sounding unapologetic. "You probably should have told them."

"I didn't tell them for a reason," Troy boomed. "So that I wouldn't have to listen to my mother crying over the phone for an hour while I try and reassure her that I am fine and she shouldn't worry."

"She probably worries anyway," Gabriella surmised, stretching out a hand to inspect her fingernails. She scraped beneath one and then examined them again.

"I have an op to run tonight and I can't do it with a million other things going on. Mom calling every hour to see if I am alive is not going to be one of those things," he insisted hotly.

"Got it." Gabriella nodded. "Wait, and I am supposed to help you with your anxiety how?"

"Gabriella," Troy warned, growling. "I am not playing your games."

"Fair enough," she agreed. "Don't you have hookers to play with?"

"Don't you have things to blow up?" Troy shot back. He finally looked around and noticed her team had joined the conversation.

"Son," Sam began, grabbing his attention, "I believe you have somewhere to be? And it is not this building."

Troy looked at the sergeant, and then at the other members of Unit Three. His gaze settled on Gabriella who attempted to look aloof and unconcerned but wasn't hiding it very well. She knew she wasn't. For a moment Gabriella thought he was going to ignore Sam's obvious order. He didn't. Throwing his hands up in the air, he pointed at Gabriella.

"Leave my parents out of this, Brie," he told her. "You don't get to use their worrying as a trump card."

"Sure, Troy. No problem." She rolled her eyes. She waited until he was almost out of earshot before calling after him. "Oh and Troy? I'm loving the look. Really. Nothing says pimp like that outfit. You'll be great."

She knew she hit the sweet spot when he lifted one hand flashed her the finger. Gabriella heard someone shift behind her but they backed off when they heard her laugh. She waited at the desk until she knew everyone had left for the locker rooms or the weight room. Only then did she feel like the blush had left her cheeks.


End file.
